


Songs Like This

by bookwormforalways



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band Fic, Bellarke, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Mild Swearing, Sassy Clarke, Singer!Clarke, Song fic, Super Soft, Teasing and Banter, The Delinquents, and sometimes about their feelings, bar setting, basically they talk a lot, bellamy watches and pines, feel good fic, i just need them to be happy, so dang fluffy, some unwanted male attention, there's lots of cute fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormforalways/pseuds/bookwormforalways
Summary: After a rough day, Bellamy visits Miller's bar. While it's honestly the last place he wants to be - he quickly changes his mind once he sees the girl on stage.Or, Clarke and her friends have a country cover band, and they play at Miller's bar each weekend. Clarke quickly captures Bellamy's attention with her sass on stage and her talent for writing songs about douchebags who cheat on her.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	1. I'm Not Gonna Write You A Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I do not own any of the songs listed, referenced, or quoted in this story (see end notes for full list). 
> 
> finally got myself on track to finish this songfic that's been in the works for months. turns out working from home during a pandemic is not conducive for productive writing... but here we are. it's fully written, just editing the last chapters, so updates will be quick!
> 
> hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> [moodboard!](https://bookwormforalways.tumblr.com/post/621554547155959808/songs-like-this-by-bookwormforalways-chapter-%C2%BC)

Bellamy Blake walked through the busy streets of downtown Arkadia for the first time in two years. And after the day he had endured, it was honestly the last place he wanted to be. 

He heard his destination, a bar called The Ship, before he saw the neon sign, as loud music pulsated from the building with a sharp punch. If Miller didn’t own the bar, and hadn’t promised him free drinks all night, Bellamy wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. People were milling about the sidewalks, laughing and talking, and the music from the live band getting louder and louder as he approached. Loud, crowded places were not his first choice on a normal night, and after today, The Ship was definitely the last place Bellamy wanted to be. He hoped that Miller wouldn’t mind if he kept his visit short. 

Entering the bar, Bellamy found it more crowded than he would have liked, as strangers bumped into him as they moved past. Spying one free bar stool near the back of the large room, he slowly pushed his way through the throngs of people and sat down, leaning his elbows against the counter top. 

Over the roaring music from the band onstage, a bartender finally noticed Bellamy’s arrival. 

“Well, if it isn’t Bellamy Blake,” the bartender jeered, his face forming a sardonic smirk. “Look who decided to show his face in Arkadia again.” 

“Hey, Murphy,” Bellamy answered, shaking the hand of a friend he hadn’t seen in years. Well, not so much a friend, more of an acquaintance that had weaselled his way into their friend group in high school. Bellamy and Miller had been stuck with Murphy since then, but eventually grew to tolerate him, and sometimes even enjoyed his company. “Long time, no see.”

“Well, you’re the one who up and left us all in this shit-hole,” Murphy returned. “Beer?” 

Bellamy nodded, and soon had a cold glass in front of him, as Murphy busied himself pouring drinks for other customers. 

Taking a glance around the building, Bellamy couldn’t see Miller anywhere, but he knew his friend had to be around somewhere - at least, he hoped. After all, what was the point of dragging himself all the way here if Miller was nowhere to be found. 

Not seeing Miller or his familiar beanie anywhere, Bellamy took a sip of his drink and turned slightly in his seat so he could see the stage. It was a raised platform at the front of the large room, the band and their instruments barely fit, but made the most of the small space. 

And it was instantly clear to Bellamy why the place was so crowded. The music was good, but he would have to be blind to not notice how attractive the lead singer was - blonde, curvy, bright eyes, and a killer voice too. And clearly she knew it too, obvious from the way she swaggered with unbreakable confidence as she strummed her guitar, belting out a vengeful breakup song. 

Country music was certainly not his favourite music, and definitely not Miller’s either. In fact, Bellamy actively pursued any other radio station in his truck, which was a near impossible feat in the south. But as much as he disliked the genre of music, there was something about the girl on stage. 

She sang with sass, yet somehow made the words real, connecting to the story of the song in a way that meant she must have experienced one hell of a heartbreak. 

As the next song began, Bellamy recognized the tune - a Carrie Underwood classic that his sister had played non-stop after she caught her first boyfriend cheating. The melody brought back flashbacks of a time when he was anxiously trying to study for his finals, trying desperately to block out Octavia’s whiny heartbreak playlist that echoed through the thin walls of their apartment. But when the girl on stage began to sing that same song, it was as if she was telling her own story. Either that, or she was one hell of an actress. 

The band played a couple more songs, including a drinking song or two, as Bellamy finished his first beer. Only, seconds later it was replaced with a full glass, he noticed the movement from the corner of his eye. Curious, he turned back to the bar and saw Miller there, arms crossed as he laughed. 

“Bellamy, you made it! Welcome!” Miller shouted above the music. He reached his hand out and Bellamy followed suit as their handshake morphed into an awkward hug over the wide wooden bar between them. 

“Miller, hey, this place is packed, that’s awesome!” Bellamy praised loudly, to be heard over the music. 

His friend smiled widely, his eyes flicking quickly over the stage. “Yeah, it’s like this every Friday night. These people love Clarke.” 

Clarke. That must be the girl on the stage. 

The crowd obviously loved her music, singing along with her to well-known covers and laughing along at her jokes and stories, as she chatted between songs. Surprising himself, he had started laughing along too, despite his sour mood and dislike for country music. 

Miller leaned in closer, so they could talk and actually each other speak. “Honestly, I’m amazed you even got a seat. Usually it’s standing room only when Clarke and her band are here.”

“You’re lucky I showed at all.” Bellamy said jokingly, even though there was truth in his words. Loud, crowded places were definitely not his favourite. He took a deep calming breath to centre himself. “But it’s great to see you, and I’m proud that this place is doing so well.”

Miller bit his lip, hiding a smile at the compliment.

But Bellamy knew his friend well, and could tell that Miller was bursting with pride despite his attempt at humbleness. They had grown up together in Arkadia and had been best friends for years. Miller had been the only person he kept in touch with, besides his sister, when Bellamy chose to pursue his teaching degree in Polis, the scholarships making the move worth it. And in the time apart, Miller had used all of his savings to buy a rundown ramshackle bar downtown. It may have been a crazy long shot dream at first, but Miller had certainly put in the work, and now this place was one of the most popular bars in the city, from the looks of it. 

“Well, drinks are on me for the night, like I said. Stick around for a bit, and we can talk more when it’s quieter. The band will be done playing in an hour or so,” Miller said, before stepping away to help Murphy and fill drinks for the people waiting in line. 

Bellamy took a long drink of his beer, and swivelled around in his seat to watch the musicians again. After the day he’d had, sitting in a packed bar watching live country music was definitely not the way he wanted to spend his Friday night. The six-pack in the fridge at Octavia’s apartment, and his Netflix queue were calling his name. But Bellamy hadn’t seen Miller in forever, and he would be a fool to say no to free beer. And, as much as he hated to admit it, the music wasn’t really so bad after all. 

“Hey y’all. I see a few new faces in the crowd tonight, so I wanted to give you a warm welcome, thanks for hanging out with us at The Ship!” The blonde on stage was talking again, while strumming the chords to her next song on her guitar. “My name’s Clarke and the talent behind me, they’re my best friends. And together, we’re The Delinquents. Can y’all give them a round of applause, let them know you love them?” 

An explosion of cheering rose for the band, and it was certainly well-deserved. They had been playing one fast-paced high-energy song after another, all while entertaining requests from the crowd and playing those requests right away, only taking a few moments pause to look up the chords or the key. Aside from the talent of the whole band, there was something magnetic about Clarke, and Bellamy couldn’t pull his eyes away. 

“So I was hoping we could play a new original song for y’all tonight.” When the crowd cheered in excitement, her smile lit up and she kept talking. “Well, as the great Taylor Swift once said, ‘I like writing songs about douchebags who cheat on me’. So this one goes out to a certain someone who should’ve known better than to screw over a songwriter.” 

With a wink at the crowd, she bobbed her head as she counted in the rest of the band and they launched into another up-tempo song. 

“ _Wanna find some boy, rip his heart right out_

_First man I see, gonna take him down_

_It ain’t the Christian thing to do, they say_

_But someone, somewhere’s gotta pay…”_

Clarke flipped her hair over her shoulder and grinned, making eye contact with the fiddle player, another blonde girl with a long braid. She dove into the chorus, exuding pure confidence, as she continued to sing. 

_“And if it wasn’t for guys like you, there wouldn’t be songs like this_

_And if you hadn’t gone and done me wrong, I wouldn’t go off like this_

_Yeah, even I’m surprised how easy sweet revenge rolls off my lips_

_If it wasn’t for guys like you, there wouldn’t be songs like this…”_

Bellamy bit his lip to contain the grin that threatened to explode across his face. She was full of spunk, that was for sure. And he couldn’t imagine a guy who had been stupid enought to cheat on this firecracker of a girl. Bellamy may not have the best relationship track record himself, but one thing was for sure, he knew to never cheat on a girl. 

_“Broke my TV, pawned my guitar_

_After maxing out my credit cards_

_You lied much too much, and you lied again_

_Caught you cheating on me with your other girlfriend…_ ” 

Landing that last line with the punch of the kick drum, the musicians held back for a moment while Clarke shrugged dramatically, and said, “True story,” before they all powerfully drove forward into the chorus again. 

Forgotten were all the worries Bellamy had walked into the bar with, and all the memories of his bad day were put at bay for the moment. Instead, Bellamy was lost in the moment, eyes watching the girl on stage. The juxtaposition of her sassy confidence as she rocked her hips to the beat, contrasted with the story she told of being wronged by her ex in the worst way, held his attention firmly. He couldn’t figure out why he already felt so attached to this beautiful stranger, but his overprotective instincts were already influencing his thoughts. 

When the final chorus came to an end, applause and cheering arose. Clarke curtsied behind the microphone as best as she could, with her short jean skirt limiting her range of movement, but her smile was radiant. Despite the real-life circumstance inspiring her song, she was clearly thrilled that the audience had enjoyed it. 

“Thanks y’all. That was pretty damn cathartic, so I’m glad you enjoyed my pain.” Clarke beamed as she turned to the drummer, a skinny guy with goggles on his head, and laughed at what must have been an inside joke. 

“Still having a good time out there?” she asked, engaging the crowd once again. “Any more requests?”

A number of hands went up in the crowd, and Clarke used her hand to shield her eyes from the bright stage lights as she looked around, as people shouted out their requests. 

Soon, the band was playing again, and sure enough, it was another breakup song he vaguely recognized. That must be their niche, if the blonde’s original song was any indication. 

“Thanks y’all. We’re going to take a quick break and grab a drink, but we’ll be back in a few!” Clarke said, as the band trailed through the final notes of the song. Lifting the guitar over her head and resting it on the stand, Bellamy realized that her guitar had been hiding just how tight her white t-shirt was. That, combined with the short denim mini skirt, and black leather ankle boots at the end of her lean legs, well, she was undeniably hot. 

Pre-recorded music came through the bar’s speakers as the sound team turned on a playlist. It was quieter than the live music had been, but the buzz of people chatting soon filled the space once more. The band dispersed off stage, and Bellamy noticed more people approaching the bar to get another drink during the break. 

Resting his arms on the bar top, Bellamy watched Miller and Murphy work quickly to fill drinks for the growing line. Their quick well-practiced movements reminded Bellamy of the long nights he had spent behind the bar he worked at in Polis, putting in as many hours as he could to pay his way through his teaching degree. After a few minutes, the lines were manageable enough for the other bartenders to handle. Snagging a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of liquor off the shelves, Miller and Murphy found their place in front of Bellamy again. 

Pouring the shots, Miller nudged one to Bellamy. “Cheers to us to not being total losers,” he smirked, and Bellamy grinned, lifting the drink and taking the shot. 

“Speak for yourselves,” Murphy commented, rolling his eyes before knocking back the shot, and slinking off to the closed door leading to the back alley. 

Miller waved his wand, ignoring Murphy’s comments, as usual. “So you’re finally back in Arkadia. For good?” 

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, looks like it. I moved back from Polis yesterday, staying with Octavia for now.” Hoping to avoid any conversations about the reason why he moved back home, he quickly changed the subject. “Is the bar this packed all the time?”

“Not at first, but since we hired bands to play live music on the weekends, we’ve picked up. But we’re packed tonight thanks to that one. For some reason, the people around here love her,” he rolled his eyes over to the blonde singer. She had snuck behind the bar and was pouring herself a glass of whiskey. 

“Clarke, what did I say about pouring your own drinks?” Miller questioned firmly. 

She sauntered over to her boss, and shrugged, “Umm, not to do it anymore.” But she stared him dead in the eye as she took a drink. “Oops, I forgot.” 

Bellamy bit his lip to keep from laughing at the interaction. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Miller chastised, and picked up the bottle again, pouring another round of shots for himself and Bellamy. 

She looked over at Bellamy and he froze, caught off guard by how blue and bright her eyes were this close up. “More like his saving grace, but I get like zero thanks for bringing the crowds here,” she said, rolling those beautiful eyes, continuing her teasing. 

“Don’t take it too personally, Miller’s allergic to saying ‘thank-you’,” Bellamy answered, his voice low and gravelly as he tried to play it cool. Yet he swelled with pride as she laughed at his joke. 

“Yes, very true.” She paused, staring at him for a moment, as she eyed him. “You’re new. I’m Clarke,” and held out her hand to shake. 

“Bellamy,” he grunted, his reply coming off short as he forced his brain to concentrate on the conversation and not how small or soft her hand was in his. 

With a quick nod, she released her hand, eyes narrowing. “Who peed in your Cheerios?” she asked bluntly, calling out the bad mood he had arrived in, still wearing it like a heavy burden on his shoulders. 

“Clarke!” Miller chastised with exasperation. 

But Bellamy only shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to delve into the truth, so instead he said, “Well it’s been a long day, and -”

“And he hates country music,” Miller interrupted with a different truth that Bellamy was hesitant to reveal in front of a country singer. 

“Ah. Well, fair point. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea,” she reasoned, holding up her hands innocently. “Now what do I have to do to get in on those shots?” she grinned tempestuously, her hand darting toward Miller’s shot glass. 

“Oh God, no.” Miller groaned, as he batted her hand away. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, groaning, “Clarke.” 

“Yeah, boss?” She ran a hair through her blond waves, looking at Miller expectantly. 

He held up a finger, “One, stop serving yourself drinks behind the bar, you know the deal. Two, thank you for playing, you’re great but don’t get a big head about it. And three, you’re doing that thing again where you ignore half the song requests. Not everyone is as miserable as you, so can you play a damn love song for the people already?”

Clarke narrowed her eyes, staring Miller down as she processed his requests. “Fine,” she answered, slamming her now empty glass down on the counter. “I hope you’re ready for more of your favourite country music,” Clarke winked at Bellamy, and spun on her heel to make her way back to the stage. 

“Well, she’s uh, something else,” Bellamy mused, trying to keep from laughing. If Miller had any hair under that beanie he’d be pulling it out in frustration right about now. 

“If she wasn’t such a good musician, I’d have fired her ages ago. So I take her crazy in exchange for good business,” Miller reasoned, taking a calming breath as he cleaned up the liquor bottle and glasses in front of them. 

“Plus, she’s a great friend,” Miller added. “The whole band too, they’re all good people.” 

Bellamy imagined they would have to be, if Miller hadn’t fired them already, and continued to let them play at The Ship. And apparently let them get away with free drinks as well. 

Hearing the radio music over the speakers fade as the band regrouped on stage, Bellamy swivelled on his stool, turning his attention back to the stage. The band was huddled around Clarke, probably as she relayed Miller’s request, before they returned to their places on stage.

However, Clarke now stood behind the keyboard, adjusting the microphone there, as the girl with the long dark hair who had been playing the piano before picked up Clarke’s guitar in a fair trade. 

“Alright, y’all ready to have some more fun? This next request comes from our dear friend Miller, owner and bartender extraordinaire of The Ship. His exact words to me were ‘Clarke, not everyone’s miserable like you, so play a damn love song already’. Miller, this one’s for you,” she winked at the bar owner as her fingers danced across the piano keys effortlessly and the band launched into the song. 

It was catchy, somewhat familiar, and oddly enough, it was not a country song. Bellamy must have heard it on the radio or blasting from Octavia’s room at some point over the years. But he caught himself listening closely to the lyrics. Clarke was quick-witted, and her smile was too conspiratory - she didn’t seem like the kind of person to take Miller’s instructions at face value. 

And sure enough, as the chorus began, Bellamy was unable to control his laughter. Which earned him a death glare from Miller. But looking back up to the stage, he saw a wide smile from Clarke as she sang.

_“I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_'Cause you asked for it_

_'Cause you need one, you see_

_I'm not gonna write you a love song…”_

From the corner of his eye, Bellamy watched as Miller dragged his beanie off of his head in defeat, dropping his head to the bar countertop.

_“'Cause you tell me it's_

_Make or breaking this_

_If you're on your way_

_I'm not gonna write you to stay_

_If all you have is leavin'_

_I'ma need a better reason_

_To write you a love song today”_

Well, shit. This girl was something else. 

And Bellamy could have sworn that Clarke was looking right at him as she sang, and that realization made his heart stutter. He had only showed up tonight to see an old friend and use free beer to drown away his bad day. But something told him he was getting far more than he’d bargained for. 

Once again, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her (and not just because of the fact that he was a guy and her piano playing made her chest bounce delightfully in her tight t-shirt) but also because of her magnetic charisma and pure talent. It didn’t matter what genre of music she played, she was clearly gifted. 

_“If your heart is nowhere in it_

_I don’t want it for a minute_

_Babe, I’ll walk the seven seas when I believe that_

_There’s a reason to write you a love song today.”_

With the final chord ending, Clarke and the keyboard player switched places again, and she returned to centre stage, guitar in hand. Looking over to the drummer as he nodded in the time count, the Delinquents tore into another song. 

Transfixed, Bellamy didn’t move for the next hour, aside from his foot tapping along to the beat. A grin had snuck onto his face once again as he listened to the band, forgetting his worries and troubles. As he listened, he paid careful attention to the lyrics, and noticed that they cut like a double-edged sword. 

Damn, he thought, and not for the first time that night, that someone must have really done her wrong. But man, songwriters really do have the best revenge. 

The Delinquents’ set drew to a close, but the crowd tempted them into a final encore song that had everyone singing along before the band finally set down their instruments. Quickly packing up their instruments and equipment onstage, the band stored everything in through a side door marked ‘staff only’. 

While the crowd had thinned slightly after the live music ended, the drink lines had doubled. Miller dragged Murphy back inside from another smoke break, and they both jumped back to attention, filling glasses with alcohol for his faithful patrons. 

Content to sit alone for a while, Bellamy entertained himself by watching the people around him, and finally taking the opportunity to look around the bar. He would do anything to avoid pulling out his phone, to avoid seeing a message or email that would make his day even worse. 

So instead, Bellamy looked around, noting all the changes and improvements Miller had made over the last two years, since he had first seen the pictures Miller had sent after the purchase. Now that he had the chance to investigate, Bellamy was even more impressed with Miller’s hard work and the bar’s success.  
  


A sigh interrupted his thoughts, as someone sat down on the stool to his left, that had only been vacated moments ago. Bellamy looked over and saw none other than the blonde girl he had been staring at all night. 

Clarke.

“Hey, it’s Bellamy, right? I know you _hate country music_ and all, but what did you think of the show?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, it was country music, so… the bar is low,” he shrugged. “But I will admit, you and your friends are very talented.” 

Clarke smiled appreciatively at his answer, “Thanks, that’s honest at least. So, how do you know Miller?”

“Oh, we’ve been friends forever, grew up together,” he answered. As he lifted his glass up to take a drink, he noticed the empty space in front of her. In a show of good manners, he offered, “Can I get you a drink? Miller’s buying.” 

A laugh spilled off her lips, “Miller always buys for me. Mostly because his service is so dang slow and I have to help myself.” She emphasized the last half of her sentence loudly as she leaned over the bar, reaching for an empty glass. 

Only to have her hand gently smacked out of the way, again. Miller stood across the bar, arms crossed, glaring at Clarke. 

“Shit, Miller.” She shook her hand in the air, “Careful, I need these hands to make music and make you money.” 

Bellamy ducked his head to hide his grin as Miller told off Clarke. “First of all, I pay you to play. And second of all, you don’t pay for drinks. So stop serving your damn self all the damn time.” But he poured a drink anyway, sliding it across the bar to her. 

Grinning, Clarke held up her glass to Bellamy, “Cheers!” And winked at Miller. 

“So, what’s the plan Blake? Now that you’re back in Arkadia for good. You have a job lined up?” Miller asked. 

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, not sure of how to answer. “Ah, hopefully. I had an interview this afternoon. So, we’ll see.” 

And before Bellamy could elaborate, Murphy called out for help, and Miller left to see what trouble Murphy had created this time. 

Looking over at Clarke, he shrugged his shoulders. “So how long have you and your friends been playing here?” 

With a quick glance to the other end of the bar, where her band-mates were laughing at someone’s joke, Clarke smiled. And she filled him in on the band’s backstory - how four of them had all been friends growing up in the same cul-de-sac, and once they discovered a shared love of music, they became obsessed and decided to start a band. After convincing their parents to buy them instruments and lessons, they had converted Jasper’s garage into a practice space and worked their butts off everyday. 

And after a few years, it had paid off. They had held auditions to fill out the rest of the band, and now they were here, a credible cover band playing multiple nights a week at The Ship and any other gigs they could book. She explained that now they were finished with school, they were trying to make the music thing work, and hoped for a record deal. 

Bellamy was in the middle of asking her a question about what she had studied at school when a tall, fairly drunk man interrupted, landing his large meaty palm on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Hi sugar, can I buy you a drink?” 

Clarke shrugged her shoulder, easing the man’s hand off of her body, while rolling her eyes at Bellamy before looking over to the man. 

“No, thank you. I’m good.” She held up her half-full glass, and turned her back to the man as she angled herself toward Bellamy. 

However, the man persisted. “Awwh, c’mon,” he slurred, slotting himself between Clarke and the person on her left to lean against the bar. “I think we could have some fun, and I promise I won’t break your heart.” With a wink, the man inched closer to Clarke. 

Bellamy’s stomach lurched. Clearly Clarke wasn’t interested, but this man wasn’t listening. His instinct told him to intervene, but he knew Clarke could take care of herself. And he was quickly proven right. 

“Who knows. But I’m already talking to my friend.” When the man still didn’t leave, she sighed. Reaching across the bar toward a cash register, Clarke picked up a pen and spare napkin, and passed them to the tall man still invading her personal space. “Okay, you have two choices here. One, you can leave right now. Or two, you can write down your number, and _if_ I am interested in your offer, I’ll let you know.”

The man took a step back and his eyes bounced from Clarke to Bellamy, and the way that Clarke was leaning so far out of her stool to her right, away from him, that she was shoulder to shoulder with Bellamy. He must have realized he wouldn’t succeed in getting Clarke’s full attention, so he picked up the pen and scrawled out a name and a number. 

“Thanks, uh, Chad,” she said sweetly, after glancing down at the napkin. “Bye,” she muttered, her hand fluttering a wave.

Clarke turned her attention back to Bellamy and mouthed, “Sorry.” 

He watched the man - Chad - retreat across the bar to his group of friends, who slapped him on the back as they laughed at his expense. “You okay? Seems like you get that a lot.”

She smirked and simply lifted her glass for a drink. And then set the cold glass down on the napkin, using it as a coaster. 

“Mmm, yeah. You could say that,” Clarke answered, a playful grin dancing across her face, her eyes darting down to the cold glass. 

Looking closely, Bellamy saw the condensation from her glass drip down the sides onto the absorbent napkin. After a few moments, she lifted her glass again, but the damage had been done. The wet napkin was now unreadable, as the lines of ink had leached and blurred, swirling into a chaotic blob. 

“Oops,” she chimed, catching his eye. “Who knows, Chad could’ve been my soulmate, but now we’ll never know.” 

Bellamy chuckled, incredibly impressed by her tactic, and reached in front of her to crumple the ruined napkin. “Nah, you’re too cool to have a soulmate named _Chad_.” 

Clarke giggled. “You think I’m cool? But I sing country music?” 

Again, he shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t offer an answer. He had never met a girl like her, and honestly didn’t know how to react. 

She filled the silence. “Anyway, speaking of weird names, Bellamy, tell me about you. You are my new friend after all.” 

Bellamy smirked slightly. Now that question he could answer. After taking a quick sip, he obliged her request and gave her the basic rundown of his life. That he grew up taking care of his younger sister, because his single mom was always working to provide for them. He went to college on a football scholarship, studied language and history, and had just finished teacher’s college. Now he was back home in Arkadia, looking for a teaching job. 

But he left the story there. Bellamy had _just_ met Clarke. There was no need to tell her about the whole ordeal from today. About how he had met with his old high school principal, Mr. Kane, that afternoon, to interview for the opening in the English department. Or about how the interview had not gone well. Despite his best efforts, he had arrived late and with a coffee stain on his shirt sleeve. And Kane had asked the most ridiculous questions during the interview - no amount of interview practice and preparation would have prepared him to answer the theoretical questions Kane relentlessly posed. Bellamy had left the interview feeling defeated, his hopes of being hired severely crushed. And the thought of scouring through online job postings had him feeling anxious and exhausted already. 

And then Bellamy had walked in the door to Octavia’s apartment, or the apartment they had shared before he moved away, to get a start on unpacking. Only to find out that she had turned his room into a storage locker, and there wasn’t an empty space in the closet or on the bookshelves for his own things. Too tired to care, he left all of his boxes in the living room for now, and resigned himself to living out of his suitcase for the next few days. At least, until he could convince Octavia to clean up her mess. 

“Oh, so you’re an athlete _and_ a nerd,” Clarke mused, glancing up at him, breaking him out of his spiralling thoughts of self-pity. 

Keeping his attention on the drink in his hand, Bellamy replied, “Many talents, I guess? Speaking of, how many instruments do you even play?”

“Guitar and piano obviously, as you saw tonight,” she answered. “And I played flute and trumpet in high school. Oh, and a little of everything else up there for our cowbell time,” she gestured to the stage. 

Cowbell time?

He raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent again, inviting her to explain. 

“Okay, so you know that game, when you’re in a car with your friends, and you stop at a red light and you all get out, run around the car, and switch places?” Clarke lit up with excitement as she began her explanation.

He nodded, “A ‘chinese fire drill’.”

“Yeah, that.” Clarke smiled, “So we do something like that on stage, where we all switch instruments for a song. I guess it happened before you came in tonight. So I ended up playing Harper’s fiddle while Monty, who plays the electric guitar, played acoustic and sang a Coldplay cover. The crowd loves it, and we’re usually laughing our asses off, and barely make it through the song.” She spoke fondly of her best friends and bandmates. 

He reciprocated her contagious smile, “That sounds amazing, even for country music, I guess. I’m sad I missed it.” 

She hit his shoulder lightly, staring him down with her bright blue eyes, and teased, “You’ll have to come back again sometime, and see the full show.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Like you have any excuse to say no, you just told me you moved back to town,” she countered. “I know you hate country music, but yes, I think you should come. I’ll even buy you a drink.”

“You mean Miller will pay for the drink you pour for me?”

“Exactly,” she agreed with a laugh. 

Bellamy looked up and caught her eye, “Well then, how can I say no.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Referenced/Quoted:  
> "Songs Like This" by Carrie Underwood  
> "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles 
> 
> (also, if the 'cowbell time' thing seems wildly unrealistic - it's not. my brother's band used to do that at every one of their shows just for laughs)
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated! 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr @bookwormforalways


	2. I Hope (she makes you smile)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *again, I do not own any of the songs mentioned or quoted below (list in end notes)*
> 
> come say hi on tumblr! (@bookwormforalways)

And Bellamy certainly could not say no. 

Which is why he found himself sitting at the bar the next weekend, arriving early to claim his seat before the band went on stage. Despite the fact that he was in for an evening of country music, he had still spent the week looking forward to tonight.

With a cold beer in his hands, Bellamy was able to share his good news with Miller while it was still fairly quiet in the bar. After he spent days worrying about how his teaching interview had gone horribly wrong, Bellamy was shocked to answer a call from Mr. Kane. Miraculously, Bellamy had been hired, and would be teaching at Arkadian High that fall. He was floating on cloud nine this week, and the sour mood he carried into The Ship last week was long gone. 

Miller gave him a celebratory clap on the back and began to joke about what sort of teacher Bellamy would be. Bellamy laughed along until his focus was distracted by a clatter of footsteps, and someone shouting his name. 

“Bellamy! You came back!” Clarke cheered excitedly as she jogged across the bar toward his seat. She reached out and wrapped an arm around his back in a side hug. Bellamy tried to hug her back, but the guitar case she wore like a backpack was in the way. 

“Hey, of course I came back. You owe me a drink, right?” he smirked. 

Clarke bit her lip to contain her smile, and nodded. “After our set?” Her hand was still resting on his shoulder. 

“Sure,” he answered. 

“Great,” her eyes flashed with excitement. “Well, I’m going to go set up.” She gestured to the stage with her free hand where the rest of the Delinquents were already busy setting up cables and taping down cords. Clarke squeezed his shoulder affectionately before finally stepping away to join her band, and Bellamy’s eyes watched her walk away.

“Oi, earth to Bellamy.” Miller snapped his fingers, drawing Bellamy’s attention back.

He felt his face flush at Miller’s knowing gaze, so he ducked his head to stare at his glass on the wooden bartop. 

“I’m not going to say anything, except, just be careful with Clarke. You’re two of my favourite people and you both have dealt with a lot of shit. And I’d hate to see either of you get hurt again.” Miller spoke while wiping down glasses with a rag, fully embodying the bartender stereotype, wise beyond his years. 

Bellamy nodded in understanding, but didn’t reply, instead keeping his focus on the drink in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clarke and her friends setting up on stage, arranging equipment and instruments skillfully, while they laughed and joked with each other. They were obviously talented and clearly well-practiced, and while he was no musical expert, he had a gut feeling that they would be making it big. And that would take the Delinquents, and Clarke, all over the country, and the possibly even the world. 

Raising his glass to his mouth, Bellamy tried to push down the jealous feelings rising inside him. He had only just met Clarke, and they were barely even friends yet. But he still couldn’t shake the fact that she was special, and he didn’t want to share her with the rest of the world quite yet. 

Crowds filled The Ship, and soon enough it was standing room only, as the band tuned their instruments and tested the mics and sound quality. Bellamy was grateful he had come early to claim his seat, sitting closer to the stage this time. 

Miller and Murphy, along with the other bartenders, were constantly busy keeping up with the customers. Bellamy watched them work and realized he should probably offer to help. Two years bartending in Polis meant he has the skills and expertise, and it wouldn’t hurt to keep himself busy over the summer. He made a mental note to talk to Miller later that night. 

“Hello!” Miller called from the corner of the stage, waving an arm to gather the crowd’s attention. Being the centre of attention was certainly not Miller’s thing, preferring to be a quiet observer behind the bar instead. While Clarke commanded attention on stage, Miller seemed to melt into the background. 

Bellamy laughed to himself as he watched Miller’s awkward introduction. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re all here hanging out at The Ship tonight,” Miller continued, talking quickly, as if to get the introduction over with as fast as possible. “You’re definitely not here to see me on stage, so let’s invite our favourite band to come out. Put your hands together for The Delinquents!” 

Clarke and the rest of the band ran onstage, waving to the crowd as they found their spots and their instruments. Jasper, the drummer, counted in the beat with his sticks, and the band launched into their first song. It was an uptempo country drinking song that had everyone dancing on their feet or clapping along to the beat. 

Bellamy’s focus was centered on one person in particular and he watched Clarke’s face radiate excitement and joy as she played guitar and sang. She was truly in her element, under the bright stage lights with her closest friends, feeding off the energy from the audience. 

The next hour flew by as the band played a few original songs Bellamy recognized from last week, plus a handful of crowd pleasers like ‘9 to 5’ and a Shania Twain cover. Before he knew it, the Delinquent’s set was half over and Clarke was announcing that the band would take a quick break. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” A pair of blue eyes appeared across the bartop from him, as Clarke leaned her forearms on the counter in front of him. 

“Just how someone promised me I’d witness this mysterious ‘cowbell time’ and how utterly disappointed I am that it hasn’t happened,” he teased, fiddling with glass in his hands. 

A look of shock crossed her face, as she teased him right back, slapping the countertop with her palm. “What an outrage. Who is this horrendous liar?!” 

Bellamy chuckled and lifted his glass to his lips, as Clarke poured herself a drink, keeping a watchful eye on Miller’s back, hoping to avoid another lecture. 

“Actually, I did have a question for you,” Bellamy began, wondering if now was the right time to bring up this particular inquiry. But he had spent the last hour wondering. 

“Shoot,” she replied, leaning down on the bar again, bringing her face closer to his. 

“Okay, so you guys clearly play a mix of covers and originals, but besides the drinking songs, there’s a lot of angry breakup songs…” he trailed off. “Is that a country music thing, or are things just really shitty?”

Clarke bit her lip, as she thought for a moment. “I’m guessing you won’t buy it if I say those songs are just a lot of fun to play?”

Bellamy shook his head, “Not really, no.”

“Well, crap. Though in my defence, they are really fun songs to play.” She lifted her whiskey to her lips and took a sip as she tapped her fingers against the wooden bar. 

Noticing she was stalling, he gave her an out. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She waved away his concern, as she pulled her thoughts together. “All of those happy, lovey-dovey songs, you know the type, they just don’t feel real for me right now. They never have, actually.”

Clarke paused, looking down at her glass for a moment. “I don’t have a great track record with relationships. My parents divorced when I was young, and then my dad died. My girlfriend left me to get back together with her ex. And my last boyfriend wasn’t just cheating on me, he was cheating on his long-time girlfriend  _ with _ me, making  _ me _ the other woman. So I just really like singing angry revenge songs right now.”

“Well shit. That sucks.” He caught her eye and said genuinely, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine, or at least, I will be.” Clarke rolled her eyes, “Besides, all this crap helps me write great songs, and the crowd seems to enjoy them. Plus, it brings in amazing tips.” 

Bellamy had to laugh at that, because it definitely was a true statement. The band rarely drew attention to the tip jars they had at the front of the stage, but throughout the performances, he had seen a steady stream of people tossing in bills. 

Murphy chose that moment to walk over and interrupt their conversation. “Clarke’s actually smiling. Wow, I haven’t seen that in a while.” 

“Oh shut up, Murphy,” Clarke sparred back. 

The bartender only grinned, pointing a finger back and forth from Clarke to Bellamy. “Careful now, we wouldn’t want you two falling for each other. We can’t have Clarke happy, or else she won’t be able to write all those killer breakup songs anymore.”

Bellamy bit back a grin as he watched Clarke fip off Murphy, as Miller sauntered over to join them. 

“Murphy, I don’t know how you convinced Emori to stay with you, but if  _ you _ can be in love and  _ still _ be this irritable and annoying, I think I’ll end up okay.” Clarke retorted.

“Hey, my irritability is irresistible,” Murphy countered, stepping aside to help a customer. “It’s part of my charm.”

Murphy dodged just in time to avoid Clarke’s fist meeting his shoulder. 

“Clarke, we love you. But I’m just saying, play a love song every once in a while and we’ll get off your back,” Miller said casually as he wiped the wooden bar with a damp rag. “Some people are actually happily in love, and wanting to hear something other than a revenge song.” 

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her boss. “Tell me to play a love song one more time,” she dared. 

“C’mon Miller, give her a break,” Bellamy interjected, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Besides, her songs are fun, and everyone here seems to like them. And that’s coming from me, the guy who hates country music.”

Miller held his hands up in defeat and walked away, muttering, “Just don’t kill the bar. Please don’t kill the bar.” 

“Ugh, he pushes my buttons,” Clarke groaned, leaning her elbows back on the countertop, and downing the last of her drink. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you exasperate him just as much.” 

She smiled devilishly, “Oh, I know. Thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime,” he answered, quickly realizing it was the truth, even though they had just met a week ago and barely knew each other. 

“Hey babe, you ready?” Harper appeared beside Clarke, winding an arm around her friend’s waist. 

Nodding, Clarke reached for her glass, forgetting that it was empty. So she simply reached across the bar and picked up Bellamy’s beer and helped herself to it. 

“Hey!” Bellamy called out, but Harper only laughed. 

“You’d better get used to that if you spend any more time with Clarke. She’s our resident heartbreaker and drink stealer.” Harper teased, poking Clarke in the stomach. 

Clarke barely managed to swallow her stolen drink before bursting out into laughter at the tickling. 

Grinning, Bellamy snatched back his drink from Clarke, though there was barely anything left in the glass. “I’ve gathered that much, yeah,” he answered Harper.

Glancing up at the stage to see the rest of the band waiting on them, Clarke said, “Well, we’d better get back up there. Are we still on for a drink after?”

Harper walked away toward the stage, but Clarke waited to hear his answer. 

Bellamy nodded, “Definitely. But, only if you deliver on this cowbell promise.”

Clarke snorted with laughter as she turned to follow her friend. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Her laughter echoed as she marched back to the stage, looping an arm over Harper’s shoulders as she whispered something in her friend’s ear. 

Minutes later, the crowd quieted down as Clarke lifted her guitar in place and looked over her shoulder to Jasper. He adjusted the goggles on his head before smacking the drumsticks together, counting in the beat. And just like that, the Delinquents were no longer six individual musicians, but rather one cohesive unit, a band working together seamlessly to bring their sound to life. 

Tapping his foot along to the catchy beat of the song, Bellamy took in the music, watching Clarke and her friends doing what they did best. They seemed to be having the time of their lives. And he hated to admit, that while he still wouldn’t willingly tune into a country radio station, he was enjoying listening to the Delinquent’s play. Though that definitely had something to do with a certain blonde singer. 

A few songs later, Miller put a fresh beer in front of him. However, in the brief moment Bellamy had looked away from the stage to thank Miller, the Delinquent’s song must have ended, because the distinct sound of a cowbell being hit brought his attention back to the stage. 

After Jasper hit the cowbell three times, three more things happened simultaneously. The regulars in the crowd began cheering loudly as they knew what to expect. The band started laughing and quickly, yet carefully, set down their own instruments. And they ran across the stage to whatever instrument struck their fancy, only just barely avoiding crashing into one another. Clarke beelined straight for Jasper and managed to snag not only his drumsticks, but his goggles as well. 

Within a matter of seconds, the band had regrouped: Clarke was sitting at the drumset, Maya had the fiddle, Monty was at the keyboard, Fox had picked up the bass, Harper had the acoustic guitar, while Jasper stood in front of the microphone holding a tambourine. And all of them were laughing hysterically at Clarke, who was proudly adjusting the goggles on her blonde head and doing a fairly spot-on Jasper impression. 

Harper leaned over to a free microphone and offered an explanation to the crowd, though most everyone seemed to know what was going on by now. “So Jas, what are you going to be singing for our friends tonight?” 

Before he answered, Jasper sent a seething glare toward Clarke, who only smiled innocently and waved in return, before leaning toward his microphone. “Maya, babe, how do you feel about ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’?”

“Don’t you dare,” Maya said back, adjusting her grip on the bow in her fingers, looking mildly horrified. Laughter echoed through the bar, from people who recognized the amount of fiddle that song would require. 

“How about some suggestions?” Monty asked the crowd, in an effort to keep the peace on stage. 

The crowd eagerly shouted song titles at the band, and Jasper held his hand to his ear, listening for a suggestion he could tackle. 

“Oooh, that’s a good one. ‘I’m a Believer’ by Smash Mouth, is that okay team? I can sing the heck out of that one.” Jasper turned around to ask his friends. They all nodded their agreement, and quickly looked up the chords on the phones attached to the stands in front of them. Harper and Monty tested out a few chords, before nodding to Clarke. At their signal, she lifted the drumsticks, hitting them together and counted them in. 

Bellamy was laughing along at the band’s antics before Jasper even started singing, and so was everyone else in the bar. But their musicality and talent shone through, as the band successfully played through the verse and chorus without issue - it certainly sounded better than Bellamy had expected. Plus Jasper’s dance moves added a bonus entertainment factor; it was almost a shame he was sequestered behind the drums for the rest of the set. 

His eyes found Clarke, at the back of the stage behind the drum kit. Bellamy had to admit, watching her play the drums made her even more attractive. 

He still didn’t know what to make of Clarke - he had never met a girl like her, and everything she said or did seemed to surprise him. But in a good way. And she was gorgeous, and a musical genius who could play any instrument she picked up, and she wanted to have drinks with him at the end of the night. Obviously, she was so out of his league, but he counted his lucky stars that she had even looked his way. 

Bellamy’s attention was snapped back to the present moment as Jasper finished the final chorus with an exhilarated whoop that had the rest of his bandmates fall into uncontainable fits of giggling. In a matter of seconds, they wrapped up the song, and were nearly crying with laughter on stage. 

“And that’s why the people keep coming back.” Miller had appeared at the bar across from Bellamy again, and explained, “It’s never the same song twice, and they only make it through the song about half of the time, but it’s always hysterical.” 

Bellamy grinned. He could certainly understand the appeal. The band was undeniably talented when they played their regular set, but this added piece of unpredictable entertainment was a huge crowd-pleaser. This one song alone would most likely make up a third of the band’s tip jar for the evening. 

Back on stage, Clarke passed the goggles and drumsticks back to Jasper with an air of ceremony, while the drummer leaned forward to smack a loud kiss on her cheek. He spun her around like a ballroom dancer, once, twice, and let go on the third spin, sending Clarke back to her place at the front microphone. 

“Hope y’all enjoyed that piece of crazy,” Clarke tossed her hair over her shoulder as she giggled once more, and picked up her guitar. Strumming a few chords, she continued speaking, “But let’s put Jasper back where he belongs, and play another song. Anyone ever gone on a date so bad you wish you could get your time and money back? Yeah? Me too. This one’s called ‘Return Policy’.”

The rest of their set flew by, and before Bellamy knew it, The Delinquents were setting down and packing up their instruments after playing a final encore song. 

Bellamy waited patiently for Clarke to find him at the bar. It would be awfully forward of him to expect her to devote all of her attention to him. So he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Octavia. And then looked up again, watching Miller and his team of bartenders busy at work. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Clarke. She had seemed fairly excited to see him after the show, bringing it up twice earlier in the evening. That had to mean something, right? So after five minutes had passed, and Clarke still hadn’t appeared at the bar, Bellamy began looking around for her, scanning the room. 

Her blonde hair was a golden beacon under the stage lights. Clarke hadn’t even made it off the stage yet - she was literally standing one step away from the ground talking to a man. Only, Clarke wasn’t smiling, and she had her arms crossed, while the man stood with his arm leisurely draped over the handrail, which effectively blocked her path. 

From the encounter he had witnessed last week, Bellamy was certain Clarke could handle herself, but it didn’t stop the angry feeling rising in the pit of his stomach. Again, his overprotective instincts shot adrenaline through his veins. 

Before he could weigh the pros and cons of intervening, Clarke looked up and her eyes connected with his, staring for a moment longer than normal in silent plea for help. Bellamy was out of his seat instantly, stepping through the remaining crowds as he approached the stage. 

“Hey Clarke, there you are,” he said, his voice low, and he stood to his full height before addressing the man in Clarke’s path. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to my friend.”

The man was taller than Bellamy, and he paused, sizing up Bellamy as a wry grin crossed his face. “Nah, she’s fine here. We’re in the middle of our conversation, so you can come back later.” The man even lifted his arm to wave Bellamy away, like he was swatting a fly away on a hot summers’ day. 

Clarke scoffed, and raised an eyebrow. And began to tap her foot impatiently as the man began talking once more, apparently bragging about the new car he had just bought. 

“Really,” Bellamy sighed in exasperation as he interrupted once more, holding up his palms in front of him. “Look, I’m not here to challenge you, or anything, but how about we let Clarke decide.”

The heel of Clarke’s boot clicked louder as her impatience grew. 

The man narrowed his eyes and puffed his chest. “Or how about you leave her alone, you bastard.”

“Okay no. No, no, no.” Clarke angrily spit back at the man, raising a pointed finger, “You don’t get to talk to my friend like that. I was trying to be nice, but no way. I’m so done talking to you.” 

At that, the man finally released his grip on the hand rail and took a step back, turning to leave. But not before he muttered, “Bitch,” under his breath. 

Bellamy had to tell every muscle in his body to not react, to stand down, and to look to Clarke to see how she wanted the situation handled. She stood still, her hand braced on the railing so tight her knuckles were white. So Bellamy stood still, and leaned against the raised platform of the stage, waiting on her cue. 

Once the self-absorbed man was a safe distance away, Clarke closed her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath, and then slowly released it. “Ugh. Why are men the worst?” 

Bellamy didn’t answer her, instead asking, “You okay?”

“I will be,” Clarke answered quietly, running a hand through her long wavy hair.

“I know we were planning to get a drink, but if you’d rather leave, we can hang out another time,” he offered, not wanting to impose. 

She shook her head, “No, we’re good, but maybe not here.” Clarke looked up and her eyes darted around the bar. Smiling to herself, Clarke raced back up to the empty stage, and picked up her guitar, quickly unplugging it, before she met him back on the steps. 

“I have a plan, c’mon.” She held out her hand, and Bellamy was powerless to refuse. He wrapped his palm around hers and let her drag him behind the bar. Bellamy was pretty sure he’d let her drag him anywhere at this point, and he would willingly follow. 

“Here, carry this,” Clarke said, snagging an opened, but still mostly full bottle of whiskey off a shelf as they snuck along the aisle of the bar, dodging bartenders as they made their way to the back of the room. 

Miller noticed the bottle in Bellamy’s hand, but with one look at Clarke’s face, and the bar owner shut his mouth. Instead, he gave a knowing look to Bellamy - one that said take care of her. 

As they passed the end of the bar, where Monty and Jasper were picking up drinks, Clarke leaned over and whispered into Monty’s ear. He looked up at Bellamy, nodded, and then smiled back at Clarke. Before any more words were exchanged, Clarke was pulling at his hand again, leading him forward. 

She opened an unmarked door at the back of the bar, and pulled Bellamy through to a dark hallway. In the sudden quiet, away from the music, the people talking, and the clatter of the bar, he could hear his heart pounding heavily. But he followed Clarke anyway, up a staircase and through another door. 

They were now upstairs, the doorway leading to a second level balcony of sorts that ran along all four sides of the bar. Miller had mentioned that one day he would like to use this space for additional seating, but hadn’t had the time to renovate quite yet. For now it was used as storage space - and a hideout to escape to, apparently. 

“I hope this is okay, it just felt a little too crowded down there,” Clarke explained, gesturing to the mass of people below them that they could see and hear over the balcony ledge. “I just need some space to breathe.” She let go of his hand as she sat down on an old blue couch that lined one of the walls, carefully resting her guitar down by her feet. 

He sat down next to her, still holding the bottle of whiskey in his hand. “This is perfect. Honestly, if I wasn’t friends with Miller, you’d never find me in a place like this, unless I was paid to be there.” The railing of the balcony was a solid wall about four feet high. As they sat on the couch, they were low enough that they couldn’t see anyone in the bar below and it was truly a private escape. 

“No?” Clarke asked, tucking her feet underneath her. She reached out and took the bottle from his grip, twisting off the cap, and taking a sip. 

Bellamy settled back into the comfortable couch. “Nope. I’m a quiet library or office kind of person. I’m not always comfortable with lots of people around.”

He took the bottle from her as she offered. 

“But you came back here anyway?”

“Of course,” he answered honestly. “You asked me to.” 

It was quiet for a moment, as they passed the bottle back and forth. The sounds of the busy bar below them were easy to tune out, and it was a peaceful quiet between them on the half-lit balcony surrounded by dusty boxes, empty crates, and old furniture. 

“I’m glad you came back,” Clarke said finally, turning her head to peek up at him. 

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile. “Me too.” And then added, teasing, “Plus, I finally got to see what this whole ‘cowbell’ rumour was about, and it wasn’t half bad.” 

Clarke giggled. “Ah, so no horrendous liars here tonight?” she asked, referencing their earlier conversation. 

He shook his head. “I have to say, it was definitely cool to watch you play the drums.” 

“You liked that, hey?” Clarke teased, knocking her shoulder against his. “Um, about earlier, when I said that all men are the worst, I hope you know that I wasn’t talking about you.”

Bellamy turned his head to look at her, and began to see a glimpse of the real Clarke - not the confident Clarke who smiled and joked under the bright lights surrounded by people - but the girl who looked like she carried the weight of the world in her tired eyes, the burden heavy on her shoulders. 

“I know,” he answered, before correcting himself quickly. “I mean, I hoped.” 

A faint smile graced her lips. “Good, because you’re not like them. Not at all.” Using her free hand, she gestured to the bar below them again. “I hate how guys like that think they have an open invitation to talk to me whenever they want. Like they expect me to be honoured by the fact that they want to buy me a drink, when all I want to do is play music with my friends. I sing for me - because I want to, not to catch their attention.” She groaned, letting her head fall backwards against the top of the couch. 

“Entitled pricks,” Bellamy murmured, agreeing with her sentiments, as he lifted the bottle for another sip. 

Clarke giggled, snagging the bottle from his grip, her fingers warm as they brushed his. “The joke’s on them anyway. They don’t realize I drink for free here.” Taking another quick sip, her lips made a popping noise as she lowered the bottle. 

“Hey, I figured that out. It’s the only reason I’m hanging out with you,” he joked back, smiling at her. He was glad to see the joy return to her eyes, it made her seem lighter. 

Clarke laughed. “As if! Miller gives you free drinks too, so we’re even.” 

“Fair point.”

Taking another sip, Clarke tucked her hair behind her ear, and caught his eye. “Besides, all that crap just fuels me to write more and more angry country breakup songs.” 

“Well, there’s a silver lining,” he grinned, taking the bottle from her. “I have to say, songwriters really do seem to find sweet revenge that way.”

Her eyes flashed mischievously. “Oh do we ever. One time my ex, the cheater - he showed up at the bar with a new girl, and it felt  _ so damn good _ to sing those songs to him. I’d like to think I’m not that petty, but… revenge is a dish best served live and on stage.” Clarke smiled, shrugging her shoulders innocently. 

Bellamy laughed at that. He could only imagine what that must have been like, and he told her so. 

“Yeah, Jasper pointed him out to the crowd, saying something like ‘she wrote these songs about him’ and everyone booed him, and he hightailed it out of there.” 

Bellamy grinned, and passed the bottle back to her waiting hand. “I think Jasper might be my new favourite person now.” 

Clarke’s laughter trilled in the empty balcony, over the drone of the noisy bar below. “Don’t tell him that, or he’ll never let you forget it. He can be clingy.” She pushed the half empty bottle back into Bellamy’s hands. 

Leaning forward, she picked up her guitar from the floor, and settled it into her lap. Her fingers landing in the right places on the strings out of habit and muscle memory. 

“So, I wrote a new song the other day. I’m still figuring out some of the verses, but…” she looked up at him, flooring him with the vulnerability in her eyes. “Do you want to hear it?” 

“Of course. I’d be a fool to pass up a private concert with the great Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy answered, hoping to lighten the tension in the air that had fallen around them. 

It worked. 

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, and eyes twinkled. Her fingers strummed a few chords, lightly. The music was soft, just loud enough for the two of them in their little bubble, hidden away from the rest of the world. “So I gave you that whole speech downstairs about how love songs don’t feel real to me right now.”

He nodded, remembering the conversation clearly. 

Clarke kept playing softly as she spoke, continuing her explanation. “Well, that’s been true for a long time now… but I think I’m starting to feel a little more optimistic. Maybe I’m spending too much time around Harper and Monty, and now with Jasper and Maya dating too, I guess I’m just feeling more hopeful, and ready to move on from all the bad experiences. To embrace the pain, but move past it, you know?”

Bellamy certainly understood, and memories of his childhood, of the sacrifices they had made, and the pain of losing his mother, rose to the front of his mind. Yes, he knew pain and heartbreak and uncertainty. And he was still working to move past it all, using it to fuel his desire to excel in school and provide a stable life for himself and his sister. While it may be a completely different circumstance, the emotions resonated with Clarke’s words. 

“But before I can write about anything like that, I still have a few more of those angry revenge songs to get out of my system.” She winked, proud of having led him on about the song subject. 

Bellamy ducked his head as he huffed out a laugh. This girl was incorrigible. 

“Normally I run my songs past Monty, because he’s a wizard with lyrics, but you’re the first person to hear this one. So I hope it doesn’t suck too much.” 

Bellamy was touched. “It won’t,” he began, but Clarke shot him a look. “Fine, I’ve recalibrated my expectations accordingly,” he offered, holding his hands up innocently. 

Clarke grinned, pausing her strumming to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

Bellamy sat back against the armrest of the couch, angling his body to watch Clarke as she resumed playing. Her fingers effortlessly changed from one chord to the next without a second thought. 

And then she began to sing, softly. 

_ “I, I hope she makes you smile, the way it made me smile on the other end of a phone in the middle of a highway driving alone. _

_ Oh baby I, I hope you hear a song, that makes you sing along and gets you thinking 'bout her, then the last several miles turns into a blur, yeah. _

_ I hope you both feel the sparks by the end of the drive, I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night, I hope you never ever felt more free, tell your friends that you're so happy. _

_ I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans, I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her hand, I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams, she's everything you're ever gonna need... _

_ And then I hope she cheats, like you did on me _

_ And then I hope she cheats, like you did on me…”  _

Clarke’s hands stopped playing, a final note ringing out, reverberating from the guitar into their quiet loft space. 

Forgotten was the bar below with all the people, voices, rude men, and distractions. Bellamy only had eyes for the girl sitting next to him, holding a well worn guitar on a ratty old couch, hiding away on the balcony of his best friend’s bar. The girl who skillfully took her awful life experiences and twisted the words into a melodic story. 

“Wow. I’m, uh… speechless. Just, wow,” he offered, not knowing what else to say. Or rather, not knowing how to comprehend what he was feeling into words in the English language. 

She glanced up at him, gauging his reaction as her hands softly stroked the top curve of the wooden instrument. It was as if she had completely zoned out while she was singing, and only now finding the opportunity to see what he thought. “So, you liked it? Even if it is a country song and all?”

“Liked it? Clarke, it was amazing. I can’t believe you can write a song, just like that.” And he snapped his fingers to illustrate his point. Smiling at her, he moved away from the armrest and settled back onto the couch so he was sitting right next to her, shoulder to shoulder again. 

“Really?” She tucked her hair behind her ear again. Never in a million years did he think that the sassy girl from the stage would have a nervous tick like this. 

Bellamy nudged his shoulder against hers. “I mean, I have no musical experience or skill whatsoever, but I did study poetry in my undergrad. The lyrics were good. The words were honest, and they told a story, they told your truth, even if it is painful. I like that.” 

“Thanks. I haven’t written anything that deep in a long time. And I don’t know what the band will think. You already called me on it, that we play those high energy angry break up songs. And this fits thematically, but it’s slower. It hurts. We always play upbeat songs, and the crowds love those kinds of songs, because it makes them feel empowered and validated. I worry that there isn’t a place for a song like this.”

“Okay, but who cares,” Bellamy countered. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write it anyway. It’s an honest song because it’s about you, but it doesn’t mean you have to share it with the world. You can keep it to yourself until the time is right.” 

She was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words as her fingers absently fiddled with the woven guitar strap. “I hate that you’re right. Why are you so smart?” 

“I’m a nerd and an older brother, so it’s kind of my thing. I have a wealth of knowledge and years of experience talking my sister through her  _ many _ problems. Plus, I’ll be a high school English teacher in the fall, so this is good practice for me.”

A laugh escaped Clarke, and she reached out, gently swatting his shoulder. 

Bellamy knew she was teasing him, but he couldn’t help but notice the flash of electricity that flared at her touch. But he deflected. 

“Hey, let me have this. We can’t all be musical geniuses.”

Clarke bit her lip to hide her grin, “I wouldn’t say  _ genius _ … Have you ever wanted to learn to play?”

Bellamy threw a glance her way, and asked, “The guitar?” 

When she nodded, he shrugged in response, “I mean, the idea of knowing how to play would be cool, but books and footballs are more my thing. Besides, isn’t it hard?”

Clarke shook her head. “No, here.” Despite already being shoulder to shoulder, she leaned in even closer, so the neck of the guitar was hovering in front of him. It felt like he was intruding her sacred space, but when she picked up his left hand and began placing his fingers carefully on specific strings, it was a welcome invitation. 

“There, that’s a G,” Clarke said, using her right hand to strum softly. 

His hand felt unnatural, like a claw, and the strings cut sharply against his fingertips. But it made her smile. So he let her move his fingers around again, switching up the pattern. “That’s a D.” And again, “E minor, and a C.” 

Despite Bellamy’s arguments against learning the guitar, it was pretty cool to know he could change the guitar sound by simply shifting his hand from one claw position to another. He likened it to being able to adjust his grip on a football to modify the angle and spiral as the ball flew down the field. 

Clarke readjusted his fingers on the strings again, and took his through all four chords once more.

“If you learn those four chords, you’ll be able to play pretty much any song in pop music,” Clarke said cheekily. 

“Oh really, it’s that simple? Just learn four chords and I could play like you?” he teased. 

Her eyes sparkled in the dim light, “What, like it’s hard?” 

“Show off.” 

Clarke laughed again, and he could feel her body shaking slightly, pressed against his side. 

Taking a deep breath, he released his grip on the instrument, and carefully reached around the instrument to retrieve the bottle of whiskey. As he took a sip of the amber liquor, Clarke gently placed her beloved guitar on the floor again. 

Bellamy held the bottle toward Clarke, offering her another sip. 

She took a drink, and placed the bottle on the ground again, leaning back on the couch, and resting her head against his shoulder. “Thank you for this, for tonight and helping me escape,” she whispered. Her hand nudged his, and she began to trace soft circles on the back of his hand.

“Thanks for inviting me, and for bringing me up here,” Bellamy replied, flipping his palm over interlacing their fingers. He could feel the thick calluses on her fingertips, from years of playing guitar and violin, as she squeezed his hand. 

Still smiling, she turned her head upward to look at him. “Well, thanks for not being like those other guys.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he murmured, feeling dizzy and energized and heated under the weight of her stare. His eyes darted down to her pale pink lips with want, wondering if she was feeling the same. 

“Good,” she whispered, and rested her head on his shoulder, leaning against his side. And slowly untangled her hand from his own, separating their touch. “Umm, Bellamy?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly. 

She stiffened beside him, “I feel terrible for saying this, but I need you to know something.”

Taking a deep stabilizing breath, she explained, “I can’t - I mean… I’m not ready for a relationship any time soon. I just, I want to be upfront and I don’t want to lead you on. You’re a great guy, and any girl would be lucky to be with you, but I’m too much of a mess, and my heart has a lot of hurts to heal from.” 

When she paused, Bellamy sat up, pulling away just enough that he could see her face in the dim lighting. There were tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “You done?” he asked. 

Clarke nodded, quickly bringing her hand to her face to wipe the tears away. 

“Thanks for being honest with me, Clarke. Sounds like you need a friend right now, so, want to be friends?” 

She stared at him, not speaking for a moment. “Really, that simple?” she asked, tucking her hair back behind her ear again. 

Bellamy smiled softly at her. “Of course.” He leaned back against the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder again. 

“And just so we’re clear, as your friend, I’m willing to pretend to be your fake boyfriend if you ever need help keeping any creepy guys away from you.”

“Deal.” Giggling, Clarke reached out and squeezed his hand once more. “So should we come up with a code word, if we ever need to set this plan in motion?” 

Bellamy grinned. 

Downstairs, the bar buzzed loudly with activity. But upstairs, it was peaceful on the old couch, as Bellamy and Clarke sat laughing, drinking, and conspiring together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Mentioned/Quoted:  
> \- Devil Went Down to Georgia by Charlie Daniels Band  
> \- I'm A Believer, by Smash Mouth  
> \- Return Policy, by Autumn Hill  
> \- I Hope, by Gabby Barrett


	3. Cupid's Got A Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! :)

Two months passed quickly as the summer heat scorched Arkadia, and the upcoming school year approached. Soon enough, Bellamy was only days away from starting his first year of teaching. Over the past few weeks, he had gone into the school for different training sessions, and had been able to see his classroom. As excited as he was to start teaching, he was going to miss the long afternoons and evenings he had been spending at The Ship throughout the summer. 

Miller had leapt at the chance for an extra set of hands around the bar, once Bellamy had offered. So Bellamy had spent all of his free evenings at the bar, and whenever it got a little too busy, he would duck behind the bar and give Miller and Murphy a hand pouring drinks and tidying up. And when it wasn’t busy, Bellamy sat at the bar, catching up with his friends, or working ahead on lesson plans. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t working multiple part time jobs at once. He had picked up a few hours a week at one of his old landscaping jobs, and that, along with his savings, was enough to tide him over until the fall. Which was good because Miller paid in free drinks rather than cash, but Bellamy was surprisingly okay with that. 

Especially because it meant that Bellamy had the chance to spend more and more time with Clarke over the last few weeks. They would hang out at the bar before and after her band was scheduled to play, either crowded tightly in a booth with her bandmates, or hidden away on the balcony, just the two of them. And they would text frequently during the week. Every once in a while, if Clarke had any free time (when she wasn’t playing gigs, festivals, or volunteering at a summer camp), they would meet up downtown for a coffee. Bellamy would run lesson plans by her, and Clarke would pull out her songwriting journal, showing him lyrics and challenging him to put his English degree to good use. 

All in all, it had been one of the best summer’s of Bellamy’s life. The only thing that could have improved the past two months would have been if his sister had been around more. Despite sharing an apartment, the Blake siblings rarely saw each other as Octavia worked two different part-time jobs and used all of her free time to go to the beach with friends on weekends. They passed like ships in the night, and found themselves texting more than talking, to stay in touch. 

But on the last weekend of summer, before their school years started again, Bellamy had finally convinced his sister to come to The Ship for a night out. 

And it was no longer only excitement for the coming school year coursing through his veins, but now also nervous energy as his sister would finally be meeting Clarke. Hesitant to put pressure on the situation, he tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal - but deep down he was aware that his life would be so much easier if the two most important women in his life got along. 

“Bellamy!” 

As he stepped across the threshold of The Ship, Bellamy snapped to attention, looking for the voice calling his name as his eyes adjusted from the bright evening sunshine outside to the shaded interior of the bar. 

He saw Clarke on the stage, waving. She set her guitar down on the stand, and skipped down the steps, crossing the distance quickly to hug him. 

Closing his arms around her smaller frame, he breathed her in, her scent familiar and classically Clarke. 

“Oh, well that explains why you were so excited to drag me here, big brother,” a sarcastic voice came from the doorway. “You must be Clarke.”

Clarke took a quick step backwards, creating distance from Bellamy at this comment. Bellamy felt his cheeks flush as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, and turned to face his sister.

Octavia stood a few feet away, but stepped closer, as she teased, “And I thought we were here to mooch free drinks from Miller.” She grinned up at her brother, fondly punching his shoulder before looking back to Clarke. 

“O, this is Clarke.” Bellamy looked over and caught Clarke’s blue eyes, bright with excitement. “And this is Octavia, my sister.” 

Clarke smiled, holding out her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you. Your brother talks about you all the time.”

Bellamy felt his face heat again. He couldn’t have talked about his sister  _ that _ much over the last few weeks… but then again, maybe he had. 

Octavia returned the sentiment (which caused Bellamy’s face to flush even more), before pointing over to the bar. “I’m going to get a drink. Oi! Miller!” 

“Little Blake!” Miller’s greeting was enthusiastic as he waved Octavia over. 

She raced over, and kneeled on the barstool, leaning across the countertop to hug Miller, before getting comfortable and talking his ear off. 

Bellamy scratched the back of his head, and returned his attention to Clarke. “Sorry about O, she can be a handful.”

Clarke laughed, “And I’m not?” With a wink, she reached out for his hand, clasping her palm around his. “I have some set up to do, but I want to tell you something.” 

Clarke led him over to the stage, where her friends were talking and laughing while setting up their instruments and sound equipment. He leaned against the stage as she fiddled with a few electric cords, all the while explaining the band’s good news. They had found out that a representative from a record label was rumoured to be stopping by The Ship that night, to check them out. The label had emailed Monty inquiring about their live performance schedule, and the reply had hinted that a rep would be watching as soon as possible - which meant tonight at Monty’s best guess. 

On stage, the excitement in the air was palpable, but none of the band members seemed extra nervous. They were excited and hopeful, and ready to put on a crowd-pleasing show, just like they did each and every time they played together. 

Soon enough, The Ship began to fill with people, tables and booths filled, with even more customers lining the bar and standing near the front of the stage. Bellamy noticed people eyeing the stool Octavia was saving for him. Wishing Clarke good luck with another quick hug, he wove through the crowd to find his sister. 

“Ah, lover boy decided to join you, hey, O?” Miller teased, placing a cold beer in front of Bellamy. 

“One, shut up, we’re just friends. And two, thank you.” Bellamy replied, raising the cold glass to drink while Octavia laughed. 

Miller raised an eyebrow. “Who would have that the studious, introverted Bellamy Blake would willingly spend all his free evenings at a bar with ridiculously loud live music? It’s to spend time with me, and the free drinks, right? Nothing to do with a certain singer?”

“That’s your fault for hiring the pretty singer, Miller,” Octavia teased, elbowing Bellamy in the side. “He’s had heart eyes since they met, and we’re just an afterthought to him now.”

Bellamy glared at Octavia while rubbing his side - his sister’s bony elbows were sharp. 

Miller mused, “Why did I hire Clarke? Seems like I’m asking that every week.” Grinning, he reached below the counter for a crate of clean glasses. 

“Clarke said there’s a talent scout dropping by tonight, from a record label,” Bellamy interjected, hoping to steer the conversation away from any relationship speculation between himself and Clarke, to focus on the band. 

Ever since that night they had talked on the balcony, he and Clarke had remained just friends. Bellamy tried to ignore and push away any feelings he was harbouring that deeper than _just friends_. But it was starting to grow more and more difficult as their friends relentlessly teased them about it. 

Wiping a glass dry, Miller nodded. “Yeah, Monty told me. If anyone deserves a chance like that, these guys do. We always knew they’d make it to the big leagues. Only, I’ll be sorry to see them go. They bring in the big crowds, and have done wonders for the business.” 

“So, they’re like, really good then?” Octavia asked, a curious expression crossing her face as she rested her arms on the bar top. 

Miller answered, “Yeah, they are.” 

“And they play country music?” Octavia asked again, continuing her line of questioning. 

Miller answered with another nod, “Yeah.” 

“And Bellamy willingly listens to this country music? This Clarke chick must be pretty good then,” Octavia mused.

“You’ll see,” Miller said with a wink, before his attention was pulled away by the customers lining up for drinks.

His sister lifted her glass for another drink, while pointing a look at Bellamy. “They better live up to all of this talk, since you dragged me all the way over here. Otherwise I’ll need a few more of these…” she teased. 

“Shut up, O. Like you had any other plans tonight.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at him, which signalled Bellamy that he had won that round of Blake sibling rivalry. But then she turned to the left and introduced herself to the man sitting next to her, whose muscular arms were covered in tattoos. Suddenly Bellamy began to regret bringing his little sister to The Ship in the first place. After all, he had seen first hand what most of the guys in this crowd were like. 

Before Octavia could get too chatty with the stranger (who was named Lincoln, Bellamy had eavesdropped), Murphy appeared on the stage and tapped the microphone. A loud static noise bit through the air, some patrons even using their hands to cover their ears. 

“What? Sheesh,” Murphy drawled, glaring at the crowd. “If you think that was loud, wait until the band comes on stage. Now that’s a racket.” 

“At least we don’t suck,” a voice shouted from off stage. Bellamy recognized it as Jasper. 

“Oh, piss off,” Murphy sneered, as laughter rose from the crowd, who seemed to be familiar with Murphy’s particular brand of sass and sarcasm. “Well, you’re certainly not here to see me. So let’s invite The Delinquent’s onstage. Apparently they don’t suck.” 

Cheers echoed as the band climbed the steps and found their marks on stage, holding their instruments with comfortable ease, like they were reattaching a long-lost limb. 

Of course, Bellamy’s eyes were immediately drawn to Clarke, her hair shining like gold in the bright stage lights. He didn’t even notice Jasper counting the band into their first song. Clarke caught his eye and winked at him, right before she started singing.

“Holy shit, they are good.” Octavia exclaimed, loudly in his ear, over the upbeat drinking song that was blasting through the speakers. 

Pulling his gaze away from the stage to look over at his sister, Bellamy shot her a glare. “Told you so,” he smirked, and was careful to catch her elbow before she could use it as a weapon on his side once again. 

The Delinquent’s performed flawlessly, singing a mix of original songs along with fan-favourite covers. As always, the drinking songs were a crowd pleaser. People were singing along, some even dancing next to their tables or up front near the stage. They even laughed along at Clarke’s commentary, as she shared funny stories about the band between songs. 

But knowing that a talent scout could possibly show up tonight left Bellamy’s mind spiralling, and an uncomfortable weight formed in the pit of his stomach. Bellamy truly hoped the rumours were real and that someone from a record label was watching this live show. Like Miller had said, if anyone deserved a lucky break, it was Clarke and The Delinquents. After spending the summer watching their live performances, becoming friends with Clarke and the band, and helping Clarke write her songs, Bellamy was truly invested in their success. 

But way down, deep down - and he truly felt guilty for even entertaining thoughts against the band’s success - the thought of Clarke and her band being discovered, and making it big left him scared. Scared that she would jump on this highway to success and leave him behind in the dust in sleepy old Arkadia. 

Clarke deserved to have her dreams come true. Bellamy had always known she was completely and terrifyingly out of his league - and he had fallen for her anyway. And she had become his friends - his best friend who was going to leave him. And the worst part was, Bellamy couldn’t even let himself be upset about it because she was going to make her wildest dreams come true. 

He knew he would be happy for Clarke, no matter what the outcome was, even if it broke his heart. And it would break his heart if she left. 

Pushing those feelings aside, or at least trying to, Bellamy turned his attention back to the band on stage. As the band’s song ended, Bellamy applauded with everyone else. He was going to make the most of the night, it wouldn’t do him any good to keep worrying. 

Halfway through their set, Clarke announced that the band was going to take a quick break, but to not go far, because The Delinquents would be back for more. Bellamy found himself counting the seconds it took for Clarke to appear in front of him. Her blue eyes wide with contentment as she leaned her elbows on the countertop in front of him, cradling her face in her hands. It was their tradition now, to spend the half time break together - Clarke sneaking drinks, and both of them teasing Miller relentlessly when he had a free moment. And ribbing on Murphy whenever the opportunity arose. 

But tonight, Clarke turned her attention to Octavia. “Hey, I know your brother dragged you along for the free beer and the stellar company, but what do you think of the music?”

Octavia burst into praise for the band, saying something about the band was playing a lot of her favourite songs, and how much she liked the original songs too. And that the part where they all switched instruments was absolutely hysterical. 

But Bellamy wasn’t listening to his sister ramble on. Instead, he was watching Clarke, who was paying full attention to Octavia, while her hand slid surreptitiously across the bar toward his drink. 

“Hey!” Clarke blurted, interrupting Octavia, as her hand found resistance on the glass she had tried to steal. 

Bellamy smirked - he hadn’t been able to help but dart his own hand out at the last second to secure his grip on his drink. He heard Octavia groan, and out of the corner of his eye line, Bellamy saw her turn to resume chatting with the stranger beside her. 

“What?” he asked Clarke, feigning innocence as he took a quick sip. 

“Let me have it, Miller’s watching so I can’t pour my own,” she pouted, jerking a thumb toward the far end of the bar where Miller stood, arms crossed, and gaze laser-focused on the blonde. 

Bellamy laughed at her expression, and teased, “Clarke, you literally just sang a song called ‘I Can Buy My Own Drinks’ five minutes ago, so go buy your own damn drink.” 

Clarke pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes for a short moment. “But technically, you wouldn’t be buying me a drink.  _ Technically _ , it’s already poured and you didn’t pay for it anyway.”

“Is that how you want this to go down, on a technicality?” he countered. 

She shrugged, and glanced over her shoulder, and then a wicked smile crossed her face. Bellamy followed her gaze, and saw that Miller had his back turned, his attention focused on helping a customer. 

And sure enough, Clarke had seized her moment and poured herself a drink, tapping the glass against Bellamy’s drink. “Cheers,” she winked. 

But her excitement was short lived as moments later, they heard a cough, as Miller stood beside her and cleared his throat. 

“Clarke,” the bartender warned, trying to portray a serious authoritative stance. But everyone knew once the singer flashed her bright blue eyes innocently at him - at anyone - she could get away with anything. 

“Thanks Miller, you’re the best. You know, out of all the bars and clubs we play, The Ship is my absolute favourite because of your generous hospitality,” Clarke crooned. And it would have been a sweet compliment coming from anyone else, but Bellamy could see Miller’s level of annoyance rise. 

The bartender took a deep breath, keeping his composure to ask, “Griffin, I ask two things of you, and two things only. Why do you never listen?” 

Bellamy smirked, watching Clarke impersonate his friend, as she adopted his cross armed stature. “I know, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes as she lowered her voice and wagged a finger, “Clarke, don’t pour your own drinks. And play a love song, dammit.” 

Apparently, they had drawn the attention of Octavia and the man beside her, as they both laughed at Clarke’s impersonation. Lincoln, Bellamy remembered, the man’s name was Lincoln. 

“Does this happen often,” Octavia asked as she leaned over to him, gesturing between Clarke and Miller. 

Lifting his almost empty glass to his lips, Bellamy took a sip. “Every damn night,” he answered. 

Murphy must have overheard, because he joined their group, leaning beside Clarke on her other side, and began to explain the tale to Octavia. “So, Clarkey and The Delinquents have been playing here at The Ship, for what, over a year now?” 

Clarke and Miller nodded unison, a silent yes. 

Murphy continued, pointing to Clarke with his thumb. “Well, this one figured out that if Miller’s back was turned, she could help herself to her own drinks. Clarke got away with it for a while, but we caught on quick enough. Miller made a deal - she could pour herself one, that’s o-n-e, one drink each night, if, and only if, she played a song of Miller’s request.”

Looking across the counter, Bellamy caught Clarke’s eye and grinned. He had only heard this story in bits and pieces over the last few weeks, and was now able to connect all the dots, thanks to Murphy's explanation. 

Bellamy felt his chest tighten as Clarke held his gaze, smiling at him, only for him. Forcing his attention back to Murphy, Bellamy told himself to focus... and to stop falling in love with Clarke. But there was a very good chance he was too far gone, and there was no way out by now. 

“Anyway, their deal went smoothly for a few months. And then Miller’s boyfriend Jackson came by for a few shows, and started requesting love songs, and sure enough, everything was still fine. But then, one day, Clarkey here decided to stop playing love songs - all love songs - and especially the love songs that Jackson requested.” 

“Stop calling me ‘Clarkey’,” the blonde said, staring daggers at Murphy. 

He paused his story to shoot her a defiant glance. 

There was a lull of silence around them as they all ignored the buzz of people behind them, and waited for Murphy to continue.

“So there you have it. The deal was a free drink in exchange for a song request, and Clarke has continually refused every single request since that day. Therefore, Clarkey forfeited her right to her free drink, at least until she honours Miller’s request.”

Clarke looked over to Miller. “Honestly, even if you asked for something other than a love song today, I’d probably refuse out of habit. Just to spite you.” 

Miller crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “Go play a love song, dammit, for the love of all that is good and holy…” he trailed off as Murphy, Octavia and Lincoln began to laugh. 

But Clarke just smiled, and finished her drink. “Oh, I have something extra special for you tonight, Miller, just you wait. You might even want to film it for Jackson.” 

The bartender huffed, and turned on his heel, the last of his buttons pushed by Clarke Griffin. 

A wicked smile flashed across her face as she turned back to Bellamy. Laying her hand over his on the countertop, she squeezed his hand, and he swore his heart skipped a beat at her contact. “You’re going to love this one. I think we might finally make Miller combust with annoyance.” Clarke said with a wink. 

Waving a quick goodbye to Octavia, Clarke returned to the stage, her bandmates right beside her. 

Bellamy watched her move, her blonde hair a beacon for him to follow. She was something else. Every time he thought he couldn’t be more impressed or proud of her, there Clarke was, surprising him with another quick-witted comment or sharing something far more vulnerable with him. 

He realized it was no use telling himself to  _ stop _ falling in love with her. Because he was already there, already fully in love with Clarke Griffin. 

And she only wanted to be friends. 

The Delinquents returned to the stage and roared through the next few songs on their set list - all upbeat and fast-paced numbers to keep the energy levels high and people dancing along in front of the stage. 

As the final chords of the previous song faded away, Clarke spoke to the crowd. “Now this is a very special song, dedicated to the one and only Nate Miller, our favourite bar owner and provider of alcohol.” 

Laughter and cheers echoed through the large space, and Bellamy chuckled to himself. He didn’t know what was coming, but he could count on Clarke to pack a punch - figuratively and lyrically. 

“Once again, he has requested a love song. His exact words were ‘go play a love song, dammit’,” Clarke giggled, “but y’all know that’s not our style.”

The drums and bass began to play, building a foundation for the song The Delinquents were about to play. Fox was laughing along with Clarke, and Jasper was grinning ear to ear. 

And with a devilish grin, Clarke said, “So Miller, we learned this one especially for you, it’s called ‘Cupid’s Got a Shotgun’.” 

The band launched into the song, the upbeat tempo was contagious and the fiddle line was lively. Bellamy didn’t recognize the song, but Octavia did - she had laughed when Clarke said the title. So he listened closely as Clarke began to sing. 

_ “Oh, he gave up on arrows a long, long time ago, _

_ Turns out I’m too hard to hit so he put away his bow. _

_ I might just keep on running from here to Timbuktu, _

_ ‘Cause he gave up on arrows, and I ain’t bulletproof.”  _

Miller was standing across the bar top from Bellamy, shaking his head as he watched Clarke closely. Bellamy knew that Miller’s exasperation with Clarke was mostly an act, to see how riled up he could get her in turn. But there was no doubt Miller was just as impressed with the band’s talent as anyone in the crowd. Knowing Clarke and her friends, they had learned this difficult song in less than a few days, solely to spite Miller. 

_ “Yeah, Cupid’s got a shotgun aiming at my heart, _

_ I’ve been dodging bullets, I’ve been hiding in the dark. _

_ Sawed off double barrel, trigger happy as could be, _

_ Cupid’s got a shotgun and he’s pointing it at me…” _

Under the bright stage lights, Clarke was magnetic and animated. Her energy connected to the song and kept the crowds alight with excitement. 

But Bellamy had a feeling that deep down, these seemingly comical lyrics cut her deep. Like himself, she was a words person, paying more attention to the lyrics in a song more than the melody. And when Clarke performed, she used those lines as a weapon or shield, whichever she needed most. He had a feeling that tonight she was using the satirical words to deflect the pain of her own past heartbreaks. 

_ “He’s sitting in that tree stand and his wings are camouflage, _

_ I’m dug down in my foxhole waiting on his next barrage. _

_ Must be open season, got a target on my back, _

_ I think he’s throwing love grenades and I’m under attack.” _

As the band played through the chorus again, Bellamy kept his focus on Clarke. She was never one to play the victim, to shy away from challenges. But he knew Clarke’s last heartbreak had knocked her down low, and she was still in the healing process of reclaiming herself and putting the pieces back together again. 

There were moments, when it was just the two of them, late at night in the bar, or quiet mornings sitting at a coffee shop, where Bellamy felt like Clarke had fully moved on. But he would never know the real answer until she told him. And by now, Bellamy figured he knew Clarke well enough to tell that she was still a work in progress, and still upset with the hand her love life had been dealt. 

_ “Well he’s got me in his sights, I’ve got a red dot on my chest. _

_ But little does he know, I strapped on my Kevlar vest. _

_ I pulled out my Remington and I loaded up these shells. _

_ He’s about to find out, I’m a dang good shot myself.” _

Bellamy looked up and caught Clarke’s stare, her gaze focused on him. With a grin, she bit her lip, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and turned to face her band. 

Both Harper and Monty had stepped forward, joining Clarke at the front line of the stage. The song built with a crescendo as the fiddle and guitar traded intricate solos. Daring to outdo one another, Harper and Monty competed, with increasing levels of difficulty. The rest of the band cheered them on, encouraging them until the solo section reached an end and they played the chorus through once more. 

_ “Yeah, Cupid’s got a shogun, but right now he’s running from me.” _

They played through the melody once more, and Bellamy recognized the determined spirit in Clarke as she sang that final line. It was the confident side of Clarke that wrote songs about taking charge and making the most of her life. Of having fun, seizing the moment, carpe diem and all. 

And it was one of Bellamy’s favourite things about Clarke. It was an absolute joy to see her perform like that on stage. 

Behind the bar, Miller cheered and clapped along with the crowd. The song, despite being anti-love in sentiment, had been skillfully played and the bartender could take no offence to that. Though it was still to be determined if it would allow Clarke another free drink. 

After The Delinquents played an encore and finished their final song of the night, and began packing up their instruments, Bellamy turned to his sister. “So what did you think?”

“I’ll admit it, they’re good. But Bell, you do realize you have no musical taste whatsoever, and the only reasons you’re here are because Miller gives you free beer and you think Clarke is hot.”

He clenched his jaw. “O,” he began, but his sister rolled his eyes at him, and turned to her other side, to resume her conversation with Lincoln. Only, the man who had been flirting with Octavia all night was no longer sitting beside her. 

Octavia glanced around the room, and then paused as she looked over at the stage, her face full of curiosity. 

Following his sister’s eye line, Bellamy saw Lincoln approaching Clarke, who was alone near the stage. 

_ Not again _ , Bellamy thought. Why did this have to happen to Clarke every single night she performed? Why couldn’t these men just leave her alone?

Full of anger, Bellamy drained the last of his drink. Slamming the empty glass back on the bar, he stood up from the stool, and began to weave his way through the throngs of people toward Clarke. He sensed Octavia following him, loyal to a fault and always ready to follow him into a fight. 

But as Bellamy neared the stage, he stopped suddenly. He noticed two key factors now that his view was no longer blocked by the crowd. One, that Clarke was not alone, she was surrounded by her bandmates as they all spoke with Lincoln. And two, she wasn’t frowning, upset, or even irritated by the man’s presence. Instead, a huge smile stretched across her face, as she accepted a business card from Lincoln’s outstretched hand. 

“... my boss already loves the demo you guys sent in, but watching you perform live sealed the deal,” Bellamy overheard Lincoln saying to the band. 

Instead of rushing over to help Clarke from what he had thought was an unwanted situation, Bellamy and Octavia stood in place near the stage, hovering awkwardly nearby as they eavesdropped on the band’s conversation with Lincoln. 

“Come down to Trikru Records on Monday, and we’ll sit down to talk and go over details. We are very interested in signing you to the label, but would like to get to know you all and your plans for the band before we make an official offer. And I’m sure you all will want to get to know us as well, before we make anything official. ” 

Harper shrieked and hugged Monty, who was in the middle of high-fiving Jasper. 

“Of course!” Clarke answered, shaking Lincoln’s hand. “Thank you so much!”

Lincoln smiled, “You’re all very talented, and I think you have a bright future ahead of you.” 

After shaking hands with the band members, Lincoln said goodbye and turned to head back to the bar. 

Bellamy leaned against the stage, crossing his arms as he watched Clarke grab her friends close in a tight group hug. 

“Holy crap. Lincoln was the label rep?” Octavia said, a note of unbelief in her voice. 

“Looks like it,” Bellamy answered, still shocked that this man had sat next to Octavia all evening, listening to the siblings talk about the band without revealing his identity. Instead, Lincoln had spent the night quietly observing not only the band’s talents, but also the band’s dynamics as he listened to Clarke banter with the bartenders. 

Octavia raised an eyebrow, “And he told me that he worked in marketing. Well then, I’m going to go see if he’ll buy me a drink.” She walked back to the bar, head high with confidence as the heels on her boots clicked loudly, before he could comment that Miller was letting her drink for free as well. 

Suddenly, he felt a body thrown against him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Recognizing the blonde hair and her floral scent, Bellamy tucked his arms around Clarke, reciprocating the hug and holding her close. 

“Was that what I think it was?” he asked softly, wondering if her dreams and his worst fears were about to be confirmed.

Clarke nodded into his neck. Leaning back, Bellamy saw her face was shining with excitement, so he pushed all of his selfish thoughts and feelings away. He could deal with his own mess another time. 

“He’s from Trikru Records, and they want to sign us. Bell, we’re getting a record deal!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck for another hug. 

Caught up in the moment, Bellamy hugged her tightly, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle. 

“Congratulations! Clarke, that’s amazing!” he praised softly, for her ears only. “I’m so proud of you!”

She giggled as he set her down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Her nervous habit. 

Before Bellamy could even wonder why she would be nervous at this moment, she gripped the front of his shirt in her hands. Pulling him forward, Clarke tilted her head up, and kissed him. 

Losing all logical thoughts, Bellamy’s hands found her waist and held her close against his body as he kissed her back. Her lips were soft under his, but firm in knowing what she wanted. 

Stepping back to take a breath, Bellamy smiled and found Clarke looking up at him, with a shy expression on her face. 

“I, uh. Sorry, was that okay?” she asked nervously, her hands releasing their grip on his shirt. 

Smirking, Bellamy simply leaned forward to press another kiss to her lips, which she happily returned. 

Only, the kiss was cut short by loud cheering beside them. 

The band. Clarke’s friends. 

“About time,” Fox squealed. 

“They couldn’t have waited until next week?” Jasper groaned. 

“Wait, who bet on this week?” Harper asked. 

A moment of pause, and then Maya answered, “Miller.” 

“Fuck. I can’t believe Miller won the bet,” Monty sighed. 

Wrapping an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, Bellamy tucked her against his side, feeling her lean into him as her hand rested on his lower back. 

“Wait, what bet?” Clarke asked, glancing from friend to friend as guilty expressions flashed over their faces. 

“For when you would get over your whole ‘I hate love’ schtick and realize you were head over heels for Bellamy,” Jasper explained. 

Standing next to him, Clarke groaned with embarrassment, and curled her body into his, hiding her face in his shoulder. Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh at her friends, while rubbing small comforting circles to the small of her back. 

“Are we celebrating, or…?” Monty asked, looking around the group at his friends. 

“If we don’t tell Miller he won the bet, do you think he’ll still give us free shots,” Jasper mused, lifting an arm over Maya’s shoulder and pulling her close. 

Harper laughed, entwining her hand with Monty’s as they headed over to the bar, where Murphy was already pouring celebratory shots for them. 

Clarke was still tucked into his side, as if she wanted to hide away from the world for a bit, so he gently tucked her hair behind her ear to gain her attention. 

She hummed, content, as she lifted her head just enough to see him when she slowly opened her eyes. 

“Do you want to celebrate with the band, or head out? Go someplace quiet?” Bellamy asked quietly. As exciting as the band’s news was, there was a part of him that wanted to sneak away with Clarke to their quiet balcony, and spent a few precious moments together, just the two of them. Who knew how many opportunities they would have to be alone before Clarke’s record deal was signed, and she would take off to share her music with the world. 

“Hmm, let’s hang out with the band for a bit, but not too long. Unless you want to spend time with your sister?” Clarke answered, waiting for his response. 

“No, we’re celebrating you. Besides, she’s busy flirting with your label rep, so… what could go wrong?” He shrugged, and slid his hand from her shoulder down to her palm, linking their fingers together.

Clarke laughed, leading him toward the rest of their friends. “We can go upstairs in a bit, if that’s okay?” 

Smiling, Bellamy agreed, “Of course. Now let’s get you a drink, superstar.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs mentioned/quoted this chapter:  
> "Buy My Own Drinks" by Runaway June  
> "Cupid's Got A Shotgun" by Carrie Underwood
> 
> a few other songs that helped inspire this fic (if you want to check them out)...  
> \- It All Comes Out In The Wash - Miranda Lambert  
> \- Bra Off - RaeLynn  
> \- Hole In The Bottle - Kelsea Ballerini  
> \- By The Way - Lindsay Ell  
> \- Cowboy Casanova - Carrie Underwood  
> \- Don't Put Dirt On My Grave Just Yet - Hayden Panettiere (Nashville)  
> \- Miss Me More - Kelsea Ballerini  
> \- Good Intentions - Emily Hackett  
> \- Shut Up & Fish - Maddie & Tae  
> \- Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood


	4. I Hate Love Songs (but I love you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! hope you all enjoy this final chapter!
> 
> A/N: when I outlined this fic months ago, I had originally planned on adding more chapters between ch. 3 and ch. 4 (for more drama and angst), but life kind of got crazy, and I ended up leaning toward a super soft/super fluff/feel good vibe in the end. So ch. 4 definitely reads more like an epilogue, but I hope that's okay! 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr! @bookwormforalways !

_ *three years later* _

Bellamy felt a strange sense of deja vu as he settled onto a bar stool at The Ship. 

It had been three years since he had first returned home to Arkadia to visit Miller here. Three years since he had started teaching. And three years since his life had changed in the best way possible. 

Even The Ship itself had changed and transformed in the past few years. The upstairs balcony had been completely renovated and was used for additional seating. The stage had been expanded, now stretching across the complete front of the bar, as The Ship was now known for live music every night of the week. 

And most notably, was the sound team setting up the stage equipment for the band, and the security team setting up for the night. That was something he’d never seen while watching The Delinquents play - they had set up all their own equipment, and the place wasn’t rowdy or popular enough to need security. 

“Ah, lover boy has returned, at last,” Miller teased, his arrival behind the bar jarring Bellamy out of his thoughts. 

A small smirk lifted across his face. “Returned? I’m literally here every other weekend.” After his teaching contract had been renewed after his first year, Bellamy had decided to stay in Arkadia for good. He had rented his own place, and spent most of his weekends at The Ship with Miller and sometimes Octavia and Lincoln joined them too. 

Miller wiped down the already clean counter with a towel. “Yeah, but tonight is the return of ‘lover boy’ Bellamy, the one who makes heart eyes at the pretty blonde girl on stage.”

“I don’t make heart eyes,” Bellamy rebutted. 

Miller raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah you do. That’s why we had the bet.” 

“I’m still mad you won money off of my relationship.” 

“It was three summer’s ago, so let it go. Plus, I needed the money to cover all of your free drinks, and Clarke’s too.” Miller snapped back, flicking the damp towel at Bellamy’s face. 

He caught it with ease and chuckled, tossing the rag down on the bar top. “The good old days. I can’t believe you’re making me pay for drinks now.” 

“I can’t believe you’re engaged to a country singer, but hey, the world’s a weird place,” Miller shrugged, returning to the task of tidying the countertop before the crowds arrived for tonight’s live music. 

The Ship was expecting a big crowd tonight, and Miller had even hired more security guards than normal for the doors and near the stage. They had kept the event quiet, but tonight was the first time The Delinquents, now a Grammy nominated band that constantly had hits in the Top Ten radio, were returning to the stage at The Ship. The band was returning to their roots, the place where they were discovered, now that they were fresh off the release of their second album and soon to go on another nationwide tour. 

The other reason for planning this event was so they could hire someone to film footage of the night, to use for the music video of their upcoming single. It was to be released later that summer, as a tribute to the band’s success, to show how far they’d come. 

“Tell me about it. You’re placing security near the stage too, right?” Bellamy asked, his protective instinct rising as he remembered how people used to treat Clarke here years ago. 

“For the eight time. Yes. Stop worrying Blake.” 

Bellamy fiddled with the water glass in front of him. “Sorry, I -”

Miller cut him off. “It’s fine. You’re just bummed that Clarke kicked you out of the green room because you weren’t a part of the band when they first started playing here. I get it. But you said you were going to help me set up. So get off your lazy ass and help, dammit.” 

“Fine,” Bellamy groaned, lifting himself from his seat, and walking around to the other side of the bar, where Miller had boxes and crates of alcohol and glassware to be unpacked. 

“I thought the point of being a successful bar owner was having employees to do this for you,” Bellamy grumbled. 

A sharp flick of towel grazed the back of his head. “Ouch!”

“Shut it, Blake. You might have worked off all of your free drinks already, but you still have two years worth of Clarke’s drink debts to work off.” 

* * *

Within an hour, The Ship had gone from nearly empty to completely packed with people. It seemed like the rumour of The Delinquents’ free show had spread, as the security guards at the door held back a line of people that was at least three blocks long. At least that’s what Murphy had reported when he came back inside from his smoke break. 

Bellamy stood behind the bar, near the stage. He had lost his barstool while helping Miller earlier, but preferred to watch the show this way - he had a much better view of the stage from this vantage point, and unlimited free drinks within an arm’s reach. Well, it was free as long as Miller didn’t catch him pouring it. But Bellamy and Clarke had years of practice getting away with that. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Bellamy retrieved it, to find a text from Clarke, along with the kissy-face emoji. Smiling at his phone, he typed back  _ I love you. Kick some ass _ . 

The band was going on stage any moment now. Bellamy had tried to sneak into the staff room earlier, to wish the band good luck, but Jasper held the door firm. 

So Bellamy waited, standing behind the counter, leaning against the back wall while his gaze trailed over the waiting crowd. It was standing room only at this point, and people were already dancing to the music playing over the speakers, with their iPhones in one hand and a drink in the other. The excitement in the air was electric, and only grew as Murphy jumped on stage to introduce the band. 

“I tried to tell Miller that this band needs no introduction, but he still made me come up here anyway.” A few people sniggered at Murphy, who paused to give Miller the finger before continuing his introduction. 

“Anyway, they used to play here all the time three, four years ago, until they decided they were too good for us here in little old Arkadia -” he ducked as a drumstick flew at his face, thrown from the staff room door. 

“Piss off, Jasper!” Murphy called. “Fine. For the first time in  _ years _ , please welcome our favourite Delinquents back to The Ship’s stage!” 

The crowd erupted in cheers as the band climbed the steps and took their place on stage. 

“Please give a rowdy Ship welcome back to Monty, Jasper, Maya, Fox, Harper, and the one and only Clarke Griffin!”

Bellamy’s earlier sense of deja vu came back with full force. He had watched The Delinquents play on stages of all sizes all around the country over the past few years, but something about seeing Clarke and her friends take their places on stage at The Ship, sent him travelling backwards in time. Back to when Clarke’s blonde hair was a little bit longer, back when he was falling in love with her and wasn’t sure if she felt the same way about him, and way back before she was famous. 

Jasper clicked the drumsticks together, counting in the beat before everyone else joined in, rolling right into one of their most popular songs on the radio. And in that moment, it was like nothing had changed, Bellamy’s gaze singularly focused on the blonde woman on stage. Clarke’s hair glowed in the stage lights, her voice full of confidence and charm. 

_ “You’ve been wearing that crown and tearing me down, _

_ It’s been a while since you’ve treated me right.  _

_ You strung me along for far too long ‘cause I never gave up the fight, until now…” _

God, he loved watching her on stage, fully in her element. She was playing the guitar while she sang, and as she changed chords, the stage lights reflected brightly off the shiny ring on her left hand. The ring he had picked out for her, and given her just a few months ago. Clarke had yelled an excited ‘yes!’ before Bellamy had even finished asking her the question. 

_ “It’s gonna hit you hard ‘til you see stars, it’s gonna put you through a world of hurt. _

_ Oh, I don’t believe in getting even, but giving what you deserve, oh my….” _

God, he loved watching his fiancee on stage. And he could not wait to marry her. 

_ “Mama always told me that I should play nice, but she didn’t know you when she gave me that advice, I’m through with you. _

_ You’re one bridge I’d like to burn, bottle up the ashes, smash the urn,  _

_ I’m through with you, la di da… _

_ I don’t wanna be your ‘just for fun’, I don’t wanna be under your thumb, _

_ All I wanna be is done, done!” _

So Bellamy stood there, back at The Ship, watching Clarke and The Delinquents play, as more and more memories sprang to the front of his mind. 

Highlights of the long journey that took Clarke and her friends from a weekend cover band to landing a record deal, to having hit songs on the radio and touring the nation. The late nights the band spent in Jasper’s garage, perfecting harmonies and melodies to the songs Clarke had written. The long road trips where they crossed state lines to perform at festivals and fairs, as the stages grew bigger and the crowds cheered louder. The patience and team bonding that grew from learning to navigate make up teams and wardrobe fittings for music videos and flying to national award shows and walking red carpets. To every new and wild experience that was now a  _ normal _ part of the band’s everyday life. And in turn, now a normal part of Bellamy’s life. 

But among the exciting, fun, and adventurous memories, there were a few difficult memories of harder times. Like the few days Bellamy and Clarke had broken up, having fought over something that was so inconsequential now years later. During the few days of agonizing separation, they realized they still loved each other, but had a lot of work and healing to do. So they had made up and were now stronger for it, prioritizing a healthy relationship over idolizing it. And then there were the long distance phone calls, the rushed facetime chats on his lunch breaks, and the expensive last minute flights to spend just one weekend with Clarke, while the band was on the road. It had been exhausting. But it was a sacrifice Bellamy had been willing to make, and thank God that he and Clarke had made it work.

It was all worth it now. Clarke’s dreams had come true, and she was enjoying the success that came from all of her hard work. But most importantly, Bellamy and Clarke were settling down, and building a life together -  _ their _ dream coming true. 

With two records under their belt, Clarke and The Delinquents now had the sway with their label to limit their tours and performances to the summer time only. The band recorded new music during the year, and Clarke had built a steady side-income writing and selling songs to other artists. With Bellamy teaching full time, he was grateful the band was still based out of Arkadia, rather than packing up and moving to Nashville or Los Angeles like the label had originally suggested. 

So now, Clarke and Bellamy were planning to build their dream house: with a recording studio in the basement for Clarke, and a custom library and office for Bellamy. They wanted a space to grow their family, a big backyard, and a front porch with a swing. And they were already looking at dogs to adopt, and Clarke had a list of potential names taped to the fridge in their apartment. 

“Hi y’all. How are you doing tonight?” Clarke’s voice from the stage brought Bellamy back to attention. 

“It is so good to be back with you all tonight, and so special to be playing here at The Ship again. This bar holds a very special place in our hearts and we have such great memories of the years playing here.”

Clarke glanced over at the wall beside the stage, a gallery wall of framed photos, concert posters, and newspaper articles chronicling the band’s success. Miller’s shrine to the band was proof of their friendship and his loyalty to the band that had helped the success of his bar. Plus, it was popular with fans and tourists who came to visit the place where The Delinquents got their big break. 

“I was hoping that tonight, we could play a brand new song for you all. We’ve never played it live before and we would love to debut it here tonight.” 

The rising cheer from the crowd spurred the band onward, as Fox began to play the opening chords on the keyboard. Bellamy had no idea what song Clarke was going to play - at the last count, she had already written over twelve songs for a new album and was working with Monty and Harper to narrow down the list and fine tune the songs that made the cut. 

Clarke began to play chords as well, a softer melody flowing through the speakers. “Now I know I’ve made a name for myself as the ‘Queen of Country Breakup Songs’,” she giggled, “and I know I’ve refused to play a love song every damn time they’re requested. Sorry, Miller.” She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. 

Bellamy heard a chuckle of laughter beside him, and knew Miller had joined him, standing side by side as they watched their friends on stage. 

“But tonight I’d like to change all that,” Clarke continued. “What can I say? I fell in love and I finally wrote a love song. So this one’s dedicated to my soon-to-be husband, and it goes a little something like this…”

Clarke had dedicated songs to him in the past, but this was the first time she’d addressed him as her ‘soon-to-be husband’, and his heart squeezed with affection. 

Clarke centered herself in front of the microphone, took a deep breath, and then began to sing along to the waltzing melody. 

_ “I hate Shakespeare and Gosling and cakes with white frosting, _

_ Two names in a heart-shaped tattoo. _

_ I think Cupid is stupid and violets are purple, not blue. _

_ I hate catching bouquets, the honeymoon phase, _

_ And letterman jackets don’t fit.  _

_ Your eyes can’t hold stars, and you’d die if your heart really skipped. _

_ I hate love songs, yeah, I really do. _

_ I hate love songs, but I love you.”  _

Bellamy probably should have noticed Miller beside him, shaking with laughter at the typical Clarke Griffin lyrics. She may have finally written a love song, but she had certainly stayed on brand, true to herself and her sense of humour. 

No, instead, Bellamy only had eyes for Clarke - the woman on stage singing about how much she loved him. 

The lyrics brought him back to that one weekend, when she was on doctor-ordered vocal rest and not allowed to talk. They had spent a lazy day on the couch, curled up in blankets watching old romantic comedies and drinking tea. Clarke may not have been able to voice her opinions, but had spent the whole afternoon sending him text messages, typing out a commentary on everything she disliked about typical love story cliches, everything that was too good to be true. 

And now, it seemed like she had taken that very list and spun those words into lyrics, added a melody, and created a song. This song, written especially and only for him. 

_ “I hate pink hearts with glitter and Valentine’s dinner, _

_ And roses just die in a week.  _

_ We were drunk when we met so we don’t know our anniversary - whoops.  _

_ And I’m far too vain, to kiss in the rain, _

_ The clouds, they aren’t numbered to nine. _

_ And you make me feel something, but it sure as hell ain’t butterflies.” _

No, he thought, definitely not butterflies. Clarke’s touch was electric and exciting, while comforting and reassuring at the same time. Holding her felt like an adventure thrill and coming home, all in the same moment. 

_ “And I’ll always love you, but I don’t have to sing it, _

_ ‘For worse or for better’ don’t rhyme. _

_ They say I got the right one so now I should write one, _

_ But I’d rather just show you tonight…” _

From the stage, Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, making sure to catch his eye with a wink. 

Thankfully, he was mostly in the shadows, so no one could see the red flush crossing his cheeks at that last line. And now he couldn’t wait to get her off that stage, out of the bright lights and away from the crowds. Because Bellamy was the lucky one who would get to bring Clarke home and to their bed, and wake up the next morning with her still in his arms. 

_ “I hate love songs, yeah I really do. _

_ I hate love songs, but I love you. _

_ I hate love songs, the old and the new… _

_ I hate love songs, but I love you.” _

Catching Clarke’s eye from across the room, Bellamy completely ignored the dozens of people standing between them, as she smiled brightly for him. Clarke seemed to be watching his reaction closely as the song ended, watching his proud smile, as if Bellamy’s approval meant more than the praise and cheers from the hundred people crowded into The Ship. 

God, he was so in love with her. 

Carefully, Clarke set her guitar onto the nearby stand. And as subtly as she dared, she wiped away a tear from her watering eyes. But her friends and bandmates noticed, and Harper pulled her in for a side hug. Clarke whispered in her friend’s ear, and the two girls shared a laugh.

Leaning toward the microphone, Clarke aimed for levity as she wiped her eyes once more. “And that’s why I  _ don’t  _ sing love songs. I get too damn emotional.” The band laughed along with the crowd, and as Harper signalled with a quick nod, the band began to play again, tearing into one of the covers they used to play regularly years ago. And by the time the chorus rolled around, Clarke’s voice was full-bodied and confident again, no trace of her emotional moment lingered. 

The show flew by as the band played song after song. Jasper even threw in a second ‘cowbell time’ song, much to the crowd’s delight. Almost everyone watching had their phones out, taking pictures and recording videos that would flood the band’s social media feeds for the next few days. And after the band had honoured not one, but two encores, The Delinquents took their final bow at The Ship. At least, their final bow for the foreseeable future, with their upcoming national tour filling the band’s schedule. 

The applause thundered as Clarke walked to the edge of the stage and climbed down the steps, her gaze searching the room for one specific person. 

Bellamy was already in motion walking toward her, and met her at the bottom of the stairs, wrapping his arms around her. She clung to him tightly, her strong arms banding around his back making it difficult for him to breathe. Softly, Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and rubbed her back. 

Clarke was never one for PDA, especially in the public eye where she was so carefully watched. So for Clarke to seek out his affection and comfort like this, well, she must have really needed a hug. 

“I love you,” she whispered, her quiet voice muffled by his chest, and barely audible over the loud music and voices filling the room around them. 

Bellamy might not be able to play any musical instruments and he could not give her advice on harmonies or melodies, but this he could do. He could be Clarke’s safe space, her biggest cheerleader, and her home. 

“I loved your new song,” he murmured in her ear, still holding her close.

Clarke pulled away just enough so that they could see eye to eye while keeping their arms around one another. “Well, I realized something. I’ve written so many songs about the guys who did me wrong and broke my heart. So I figured it was about time I started writing songs about one special man, the man I love and get to marry.” 

Bellamy was floored at her words. Just when he thought he couldn’t love Clarke any more, she went and said something like that. He was starting to realize he would never reach the limit of his love for Clarke. 

“You can write as many songs about me as you like, as long as I’m the only one you write love songs about. Deal?” 

Clarke giggled, and answered, “Deal.”

Bellamy leaned forward and kissed her, her soft lips returning the kiss eagerly. 

Pulling her even closer into his embrace, he deepened the kiss, ignoring the crowds in The Ship, Clarke’s bandmates nearby, and even Murphy, who was hollering “Get a room!” from behind the bar. 

Bellamy had once walked into The Ship thinking it was the last place he wanted to be - but now everything had changed.

It turns out, visiting Miller’s bar on that awful day years ago, signalled the start of the rest of Bellamy’s life. It was a moment that redirected him back to Arkadia, and back to his friendships with Miller and Murphy. It led to setting down roots with his teaching career, spending more time with his sister, and to adopting The Delinquents and Lincoln into his life. 

And most importantly, if it weren’t for that first day at The Ship, Bellamy would never have met Clarke. She was the love of his life, his country princess, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what his life would be like without her. And now that he and Clarke were engaged, he didn’t have to. Bellamy would get to spend the rest of his life with Clarke by his side. Together, like they were meant to be. 

And for that, Bellamy would always be eternally grateful. 

So Bellamy held Clarke tightly in his arms, kissing her lightly, and whispering softly into her ear to make her laugh. And they were blissfully unaware of the conversation at the bar behind them, where their friends had gathered. 

“Fifty bucks says they’ll have a kid by next summer,” Monty mused, one arm looped over Harper’s shoulders. 

Murphy finished pouring drinks for the band and set them on the counter top. “Nah, I’m betting by Christmas.”

“Ooh, we’re betting on Clarke again? Count me in,” Jasper cheered, lifting his glass to his lips. 

“You don’t even know what they’re betting on,” Maya chastised her boyfriend, knocking her shoulder against his. 

Jasper held up his hands innocently, “Who cares, there’s money to be made!”

“Guys, maybe we shouldn’t be betting on this...” Fox began to say, in defence of her friend.

There was a quiet pause, before the whole group burst out into laughter. Because  _ of course _ they would be betting on Clarke. 

“... but I’m betting she’ll be pregnant before the wedding,” Fox said, a sly smile on her face. 

“Miller, what’s your bet?” Harper asked, sneaking a glance at the couple while leaning back against Monty. 

The bartender tucked a towel over his shoulder, and crossed his arms as he contemplated. And then Miller said, “A hundred bucks says she’s already pregnant.” 

The band and Murphy turned to stare at Miller, waiting for an explanation. 

“What?” Miller shrugged, “I’m a bartender, I see things.”

But the group pressed him for more. 

“Well, for someone who always helps herself to free alcohol around here,” Miller smirked proudly, “I couldn’t help but notice that Clarke’s only had water to drink tonight...” 

Squeals and shouts of disbelief rose from the band, all eyes turning to Bellamy and Clarke. But the couple was still lost in their own little world, completely oblivious to their friends’ conversation. 

  
  


And eight months later, Miller met his newborn god-daughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, I do not own any of the songs mentioned or quoted in this fic. BUT, they're all great songs and you should totally check them out! 
> 
> Songs mentioned/quoted this chapter:  
> "DONE." by The Band Perry  
> "I Hate Love Songs" by Kelsea Ballerini
> 
> a few other songs that helped inspire this fic (again, if you want to check them out)  
> \- Undo It - Carrie Underwood  
> \- Keep Up - RaeLynn  
> \- Girl In A Country Song - Maddie & Tae  
> \- Good Girl - Carrie Underwood  
> \- Hell On Heels - the Pistol Annies  
> \- Kerosene - Miranda Lambert  
> \- Fast As You - Runaway June  
> \- Miss You Being Gone - The Band Perry  
> \- Misery Loves Company - One More Girl  
> \- Flat On The Floor - Carrie Underwood


End file.
